Sing To Me
by Valkryie Cullen
Summary: The Eurovision Song Contest of 2010, in the event if the countries themselves had to sing their song. Will it go well for them?
1. Intro, Azerbaijan, Spain

I don't own Hetalia or Eurovision, Hidekaz Himaruya owns Hetalia and I guess Europe owns Eurovision. This fanfic might be a bit late, considering Eurovision happened several months ago. But I saw a montage video on YouTube of the Eurovision submissions coupled with pictures of the Hetalia characters. Some of the songs were just so hilarious when paired with the countries in this anime. If this has already been done I apologize, I mean no plagiarism. But this is my take on if it had been the Hetalia characters themselves singing these songs for Eurovision. The songs are all on YouTube, so feel free to listen to them while you read this story.

I've made some OCs of the other countries participating in the song contest, but I only delved into the ones who made it into the top 10, Ireland, and Israel. Short paragraphs in **bold** throughout the story include some history on these countries and their relationships. If you would like me to include more of the other countries, let me know and I'll update the fanfic. Pairings include: GerIta, Spamono, LietPol, Greece/Japan/Turkey (?), one-sided LietBel, SuFin, one-sided DenNor (?), and others I can't remember off the top of my head.

Also, thank you to JustDextra for pointing out that Germany's boss is in fact a woman. I'm sorry for the confusion!

Finally, I mean no harm when I make fun of some of the songs in this fic. Enjoy!

* * *

Sing To Me

* * *

It was that time again. Switzerland won the first in 1956. Norway was the returning champion from 2009. And Ireland held the most wins with seven.

Who's going to win this year?

It's time…for Eurovision, 2010.

* * *

Germany sized up his boss with a look of apprehension…and horror. What he needed right then was a cold beer, but he was certain nobody had alcohol on hand. "Ma'am…" he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Must I do this?"

"What?" his boss looked irritated now. "Why are you getting cold feet? This isn't your first year participating in the song contest! Besides, we're one of the Big Four! Automatic entry into the finals! You _can't _back out now, Ludwig!"

"I-I'm not backing out, ma'am." It was a struggle to keep his voice calm. "I-It's just…"

"Just what? Why do you not want to go onstage and represent your people?"

"The song, ma'am." Germany could feel his face grow hot and he ducked his head. "Why do I have to sing _Satellite_?"

"Oh, is _that _what's bothering you?" his boss shook her head in exasperation. "Competition is stiff this year, Ludwig! We may be automatically entered into the finals, but not one of the Big Four has won in over a decade! And the judges are cutthroats this year! Did you see the score they gave _Switzerland_? I was certain they would make it through!"

Germany had heard Switzerland's song, but he didn't quite agree with his boss's assertion of its greatness. "But _Satellite_?"

"What is the problem with this song?"

"W-Well…a _girl_ sings the song for one thing—"

"What's wrong with a girl's song?" His boss demanded, clearly offended by the suggestion. "You've sung women's songs before! Don't you _dare_ claim this will ruin your masculinity!"

"I wouldn't mind it at all if it was just a song a woman had sung," Germany said desperately. "B-But the lyrics! The musical rhythm…they're all _out of character_ for me to do!"

"Out of character?" his boss barked. "Lena, the song's original singer, is _German_! She is of you, Ludwig! Nothing is out of character when it comes to your own people!"

"But why this song? Can't I sing another German song, like something from Rammstein—"

"Absolutely not, Ludwig! You are going to go out there tonight, and you are going to sing _Satellite_! For the sake of your people!" his boss stormed off.

Germany gaped after her, staring at his boss'es retreating back frozen for a moment before he collapsed into a chair. "_Schei__ße_…"

"_HEY HEY LORD, GIVE ME MELON SODA!_

_HEY HEY LADY, HEY HEY LADY!_

_I JUST CAN'T FORGET THE TASTE_

_OF THAT CHOCOLATE BAR I ATE BEFORE_!"

Germany raised his head and looked at one of the intercom speakers in the ceiling. "What the…"

* * *

"_MARUKAITE CHIKYUU!_

_MARUKAITE CHIKYUU!_

_MARUKAITE CHIKYUU,_

_I AM SEA_—**OOF**!"

It was fifteen minutes until Eurovision went live all over Europe. Everyone was tense about what might happen.

So naturally, security showed no mercy to those who tried to hijack the show.

"Whatever were you thinking?" England fumed. "You're sitting in the front row, and yet you didn't stop him when he stormed the stage?"

"I wanted to participate too!" Sealand stuck his tongue out at England and pouted. "I'm a European country; _I _should be allowed to be in Eurovision, too!"

England ignored him as he sized up the two Nordics sitting in front of him. Finland was laughing lightly and Sweden was idly playing with Hanatamago. "Why didn't you stop him when he ran onstage?"

"Come now, calm down." Finland raised his hands slightly, still smiling and laughing. "It isn't live yet, and he just wanted to have fun. No harm no foul, right?"

"That's right!" Sealand said cheerfully. He plopped down in the seat in between Finland and Sweden.

England didn't look so convinced, and he huffed in exasperation. "No harm…you _would_ say that, wouldn't you? After all, what does it matter to you two if the show's ruined considering neither of you even _made it_ into the finals?"

Finland's smile quickly faded. "H-Hey, that's not nice—"

Sweden suddenly stood straight up out of his seat. He stretched up to his full height and turned to face England. His face cold, but it also looked like there was repressed rage in his blue eyes.

England felt very small in that moment. "A-A-As you said, no harm no foul. I-I have to meet the…others." He turned on his heel and ran up the aisle.

"Were you offended, Su-san?" Finland asked him. "It's really no bother, though. We may be the only Nordics not in the finals, but we gave it our best shot. Now we can cheer for the others."

Sweden slowly sat back down. "I won't…cheer for Denmark."

Finland laughed again, as Sealand took Hanatamago from Sweden. "Well, according to the program he's going to be the very last nation to go tonight. He must be so nervous about it…"

* * *

"Norge!"

Norway violently stiffened as a body draped over his own and arms wrapped around his shoulders. "Norge, did you see the lineup? I'm _dead last_ tonight! Ho, this is going to be horrible!"

"It's not like you have a chance anyways," Norway said neutrally, trying to shrug Denmark off him.

"Aw, you're worried about me!" Denmark hugged him a little tighter. "_Mange tak_! Don't you worry; I'm going to give it all my best, just for you!"

"I don't care."

"Just for him?" Iceland asked. "What about your own people?"

"Of course I will!" Denmark reassured him. "But we're in Norge's territory! He's the reigning champion from last year! I will absolutely give it my best for him!"

"I don't care," Norway repeated, finally succeeding in shoving Denmark off him.

Denmark clapped his hands together, once again all smiles. "Oh, I can't wait to get out there, though! Even if I get the lowest score tonight, that's still better than Sweden! That _Tudefj's _got marked just below qualifying! Oh man, the look on his face…I'll hold it as a cherished memory!"

"Idiot," Norway muttered audibly, brushing off his clothes.

Denmark didn't seem to hear him. "Well, I have plenty of time to get ready! I think I'll sit with them until it's my turn! Good luck, you two! And Norge…I can't _wait_ to hear your song!"

Denmark ran off. Iceland watched him go and looked at Norway. "Since when is Sweden a crybaby?"

* * *

A few rows back from the Nordic family, a large host of countries were sitting together, taking up two rows. All of them were conversing loudly and happily.

With some exceptions.

"Doitsu!" Italy Veneziano was all smiles. He happily waved a small German flag back and forth. "Doitsu! Doitsu!"

"For Christ's sake, put that thing away!" Italy Romano fumed, glaring at his younger brother. Romano was seated directly on the aisle, with Italy beside him.

"But Nii-san…" Italy looked offended by Romano's words. "I want Germany to win! If I don't cheer for him, how will he know I want him to win?"

"I _don't _want him to win, idiot!" Romano barked. "I'll be happy to see his kraut-ass crash and burn tonight!"

"Nii-san, that's not very nice at all!"

"Ha! Without his Big Four status he would've _never _been in the finals!"

"_I'm_ one of the Big Four," England said defensively. "And my song is definitely the winner this year."

"France-nii-san and Spain-nii-san are the Big Four too," Italy pointed out. "So don't make fun of Germany for it!"

The mention of the latter country made Romano visibly stiffen, but he quickly brushed it off with an obnoxious laugh. "That _idiota _has no chance! A whole list of countries to perform and he has to go _second_? Just wait, he's going to choke onstage!"

England turned away from the Italian brothers to the other countries seated in the row. "So, I see you threw down a hamburger long enough to get here."

"It looks like fun." America was reading over the program and not looking at England. "It was nice of you to send me an invitation this year, since my other ones keep getting lost in the mail…"

"Yes, it's a shame," England said smugly. He glanced towards the country seated at America's left. "Did you get an invitation too, Japan?"

"Hai. Two of them, in fact." Japan fumbled with his pockets and pulled out two invitations. "When I heard both Greece-san and Turkey-san made it into the finals, I was very happy for them. Both of them sent me invitations to these finals, and so I'd like to cheer them both on."

England glanced upwards. "I wonder if they even realize the other sent you an invitation…"

"Aren't you supposed to be backstage preparing?"

England's whole body tensed at this voice. America however quickly looked up and jumped to his feet as a chin-length red-headed woman approached their row. "_Ireland_!"

* * *

**As a younger sibling of England, Ireland was often subjected to her older brother's ideology over religion and land. The two fought constantly for centuries over who would control the land and England won many times. Ireland, ever the stubborn little sister, always came back swinging, and broke away from the United Kingdom as much as she could. England however maintained control over six counties in the northern territory of the island. This area is known as Northern Ireland, their younger brother.**

* * *

Ireland pointedly ignored her older brother as she hurried over to give America a hug. "Thank you so much for coming! Are you here to see me win again?"

England scoffed very discreetly, but Ireland ignored him. "Aye, I'm not entering the finals with a lot of points. But my song is strong and I'm certain I'll be able to win this year!"

"I look forward to it!" America said positively, smiling at her. "But it sounds like everyone has a lot of strong songs this year! England said so too!"

"_My_ song will be the sure winner," England said confidently. "It's truly a great song, so pay attention to it!"

Ireland snorted in disgust, turning dark green eyes towards her brother. "You haven't won since 1997. And this Big Four status, which allows you to _cheat_ and skip to the final round, sure hasn't helped you. Aren't you being a little cocky?"

"Well, YOU haven't won since 1996!" England yelled, jabbing a finger at her. "So who do you think you are to lecture _me_ about wins?"

Ireland grinned evilly at him. "Because nobody else has won more times than _me_."

"Why, you—"

"I wish I could sit out here and chatter with you lads," Ireland said, cutting England off. "But I must go and get ready. Let's get a pint later America, okay?" she smiled again. "My treat!"

"Sure, absolutely!" America yelled cheerfully.

England gaped at his sister's retreating back and his shoulders slumped. "Why do my siblings hate me?"

"Do you need a book?" America asked, looking through the program once more. Suddenly, his whole face lit up. "Oh, WOW! _Israel_ is here? That's awesome! I didn't know Israel was part of Europe!"

"…She's not," Estonia said slowly.

"Israel is just part of the European broadcasting!" England snapped. "So they can enter! Since _you_ aren't, you can NEVER enter!"

America shrugged. "I have American Idol, so I don't need this."

"…So I can't enter, either?"

England yelped and jumped, looking to the seat at America's right. "C-Canada, you're here too? I didn't see you!"

Canada smiled sadly, and hugged Kumajirou to his chest. "It's all right. I understa—"

"Sorry we're late."

A body fell into the seat right on top of Canada. Canada wheezed quietly in pain but it went unnoticed.

"Poland!" Italy cheered happily.

"Hey, Poland!" America greeted the country who'd just taken his brother's seat. "And Lit—LITHUANIA?" He screamed in horror.

Everyone then looked towards Lithuania, who looked embarrassed by the sudden attention. "H-Hello, America-san…"

"What the hell happened to your face?" America blurted out.

Lithuania had a huge bandage over his nose, and one of his eyes was swollen.

"I agree, what happened to you?" England demanded. "It looked like someone hit you!"

"Oh God, was it Russia?" Latvia cried out, pressing his hands to his cheeks. "It was, wasn't it?"

"O-Oh, don't worry," Lithuania stammered. "It's really nothing—"

"Belarus, like, totally broke his nose," Poland interrupted flatly. He didn't seem to notice Canada fidgeting underneath him.

"BELARUS?" the other Baltics shouted.

"F-Feliks, _please_!" Lithuania scolded. He forced a smile at the other horrified countries. "I-It's really not a big deal. Feliks makes it sound so simple, but it's actually quite complicated."

Poland glared at him. "_Complicated_, Liet? You, like, go backstage to wish her good luck. You find her in the wings—not, like, in a dressing room or something—and wish her good luck. She punches you in the face. She breaks your nose. Like, what's complicated about THAT?"

"That woman is scarier than her _fratello_," Romano said, shuddering slightly. "Why would you even _want_ to talk to her?"

"I-I-It was my fault, really," Lithuania tried to explain. "B-Belarus is very nervous, you see, about the final. It w-wasn't the right time for me to just spring on her—"

"You just wished her good luck!" Poland snapped. "Two words, Liet! You didn't, like, totally belt out some idiotic poem or love confession! You just said 'good luck' and she, like, totally punched you! For no reason!"

"I was bothering her, Feliks, end of story. I'd like to forget it and focus on enjoying the show." Lithuania reached into his pocket.

Poland scoffed and tucked his hands behind his head. "There isn't, like, a lot of people I want to cheer for. It—WHY DO YOU HAVE **THAT**?"

"What, this?" Lithuania held up a small flag not unlike the German one Italy had. This flag, however, was for Belarus. "I'm here to cheer her on. I'd like to show my support."

"You aren't, seriously, going to cheer her on after she broke your nose, are you?"

Lithuania looked offended by the question. "It was my fault, Feliks. Now, just leave it alone and let me enjoy the show." He waved Belarus's flag idly. "I'd really like her to wi—"

Poland ripped the flag out of his hand and threw it as far as it could go. "As long as I'm here, you _aren't_ waving that thing!"

Lithuania looked crestfallen, but slowly nodded. "…All right…"

* * *

"Why are you in such a bad mood?" Austria asked. "I mean, it's just a _song_, right?" He sighed to himself. "I would hardly call modern songs _music_, but it's what, three minutes tops? Stop worrying."

Germany looked absolutely miserable. He quietly sat down and faced the corner without saying a word.

Austria sighed shortly. "Thank God that _idiot_ isn't here…"

"Hey, guys!" Hungary ran over to them. "I just looked at the audience! _Italy_ is here!"

Germany twitched, and Austria rolled eyes. "Well, that's just perfect. You haven't seen Prussia, have you?"

Hungary shrugged. "I'm guessing he's running late, but who cares? He can stay away for all I care!"

"Knowing him, he won't miss this."

"Hey, look!" there was a sudden shout amongst the Eurovision personnel. "It's the vampire siblings!"

Hungary stiffened, but Austria was confused. "_Vampire_ siblings? Oh for God's sakes, vampires don't exist!"

"…I know who they are," Hungary seethed suddenly. She stormed over to the green room's open door and glared into the hallway. Austria followed her to get a look as well.

Three young adults, two boys and one girl, all of them with jet-black hair and dressed in black clothes, were standing together talking amongst themselves. "Oh," Austria said after a moment. "The Romanian territories."

* * *

**The Romanian siblings are Transylvania, Moldavia, and Wallachia. The siblings governed themselves and looked out for each other through the centuries. The story of Count Dracula, also known as Vlad the Impaler, originates from Romania, and so the siblings are often thought to be vampires. The country as a whole was part of the Warsaw Pact and all three siblings lived in the USSR house with Russia for many decades. After the Cold War, they declared their independence. Moldavia, now named Moldova, declared himself as an independent country from his other siblings around the same time. Romania is now overseen by Transylvania and Wallachia. Also…they do **_**not**_** have a pleasant history with Hungary, especially on Wallachia's part but due to drastic positive diplomacy between their bosses over the last few years they are forced to be civil with one another."**

* * *

Wallachia glanced over her shoulder and saw Hungary. A strange glint entered her dark eyes and gave Hungary a subtly sardonic grin before focusing on her brothers.

Hungary seethed, and started forward. "That _kurva_—"

"Hungary." Austria grabbed her arm. "Civility, remember?"

Hungary sighed, but allowed herself to be pulled back into the room. "She is only so _lucky_ I resigned from Eurovision this year! I would've beaten her soundly!"

"Hello!"

Hungary stiffened, and forced a twitching smile at Austria. "I'm…going elsewhere. Or else I'll be _too_ tempted to cause violence!"

Austria said nothing as she ran off, but the sudden appearance of Prussia was no less pleasant for him. "What's up, loser? Wasn't Hungary just here?"

"…No."

"Hey, West!" Prussia brushed past Austria and headed over to his little brother. "Why so down in the dumps? We can't win this way!"

Germany said nothing.

* * *

The lights dimmed over the arena, and the cameras became ready. Conversations ceased to a halt. _"Welcome to the fifty-fifth annual Eurovision Song Contest!" _the announcement blared out.

"Fifty-fifth?" America wondered. "It's been going on _that_ long?"

"Surprised?" England said haughtily.

"No, not really. My Academy Awards has been going on for _much _longer."

"_Before we start the show, let's take a moment to highlight the performances of the countries that fell short of qualifying this year!"_

"It, like, totally sucks you weren't able to enter the contest this year, Italy," Poland said. "It's always funny to see you two, like, perform together."

Italy sighed sadly. "_Sì_. It's too bad we couldn't…"

Romano gaped at him. "What the fuck do you mean we _couldn't_? YOU'RE the moron who forgot the deadline, AGAIN! All you had to do was remember ONE DATE! We had the _greatest_ song lined up for this year, but NO! You got lost trying to find your own fucking mailbox!"

Italy began to cry. "Waaaah, Nii-san is being mean to me!"

The montage began playing on the stage screen, starting with Switzerland, who'd looked both embarrassed and pissed off during his performance. "_Il pleut de l'or, chaque fois que tu me parles d'amour, Il pleut de l'or…_"

"Yay, Nii-san!" Liechtenstein cheered from the audience.

"I _lost_, Liechtenstein," Switzerland sighed, hiding his face. "By a _horrible_ margin."

"He scored so low because he sang in French," England observed from the wings.

"What the hell does THAT mean?" France demanded.

A crimson-faced Estonia was next. "_Give me time and give me strength, give me strength to carry on. Give me bit of hope now, help me through the night. Give me time and give me strength, give me strength to carry on."_

A trembling Latvia was next. "_What for are we living? What for are we crying? What for are we dying? Only Mr. God know why—What for are we living?_"

"Their songs were so depressing," Russia observed happily. "I wonder why?" He didn't notice the dirty looks other countries gave him.

Finland's cheerful entry was next, an accordion rumbling happily beside him. "_Mä laulan, Paista päivä kulje kunnon kuu, Työlki ellää, mut kaupal rikastuu. Mitä mina laulan kun olen…_"

"I was one of the few countries to sing in my native language this year," Finland sighed sadly. "And I was just _three points _shy of qualifying…"

"…It's okay," Sweden said, reaching around Sealand to pat him on the shoulder.

Poland's enthusiastic performance was next in the montage, as he spun around the microphone stand. "_I'll be forever, ever and ever. Feeling this love Till the day when I die. Being together, Even no matter, You didn't want me to be by your side._"

"This song sounds really good," Japan said, glancing at Poland. "How did you not qualify?"

Poland shrugged. "The song _is_, like, totally awesome, but it obviously, like doesn't suit me. Next year I'm gonna, totally, whip out a dance song, or something. Then I'll definitely win."

Speaking of dance songs, Lithuania's awkward performance showed next. "_But that's OK we like it rough. We'll settle the score. We survived the reds and two world wars…Hey! Get up and dance! To our eastern European kinda—_"

"That your way of sticking it to Ivan?" America asked.

"_Mano Dievas_," Lithuania groaned, sinking into his seat.

"You, totally, did a good job," Poland assured him. "But next year I'm like, totally stealing that style."

Netherlands' hyperactive performance followed, the video filled with the sound of rhythmic clapping. "_Shalaie shalala, shaalalie Shalala, Het gaat niet uit m'n kop! Shalalie Shalala, shalalie Shalala, Ik sta d'r's morgens mee op!_"

Spain was laughing so hard from the wings at this performance that he fell over. Netherlands could see him from the audience and hissed in fury.

And to conclude the montage, was Sweden's very stoic performance. "_Misty moon, you're gonna see, I've got you blues to get on my feet. 'Cause this is my life, my friend, and this is my time to stand!_"

Sweden's pocket hummed all of a sudden. He pulled out his cell phone and found a new text message for him.

"_No, it's not."_

_- Peace, Denmark_

Sweden's head snapped up. Denmark was standing on the side of the stage, pointing and laughing at him. He looked back down at his cell phone.

"Su-san, what's wrong?" Finland asked worriedly. "You're glaring fiercely at your phone!"

"…It's nothing," Sweden said slowly.

"So the first country singing is…Azerbaijan?" Sealand said, reading the program. "Who's that?"

* * *

Turkey was in _such_ a good mood. The finals were about to start. Most importantly, were the current scores for Eurovision.

_I placed first in my category! _he thought with absolute glee. _One hundred and eighteen points!_

It didn't matter to him that a _certain_ other country had also placed first in _his_ semi-final round. _My song is __**much**__ stronger than his! __**And**__ I invited Japan as my special guest! I can't wait to rub my victory in his face!_

He knew which green room this certain country was in. He was no wasted no time in breezing in. "Brat! Are you ready to lo—"

He trailed off. Greece was fast asleep on the couch, cats and kittens curled up around him.

"HEY!" he barked, storming over to the couch and grabbing Greece by his collar. "I'm talking to you, brat! Wake up this instant!"

He gave Greece several violent shakes, and kittens went flying off him and onto the couch and floor. But outside of a few slight gurgles, Greece remained asleep.

"_Sıçmak_," he cursed to himself, nonchalantly letting Greece go. The other country fell hard back against the couch, but remained asleep. Turkey ignored the hissing cats around him as he left this green room. "Now what…?"

He perked up when he saw another country leaning against a wall. "Cyprus!" he ran over to him, grinning sinisterly. "I saw your score! Only sixty-seven points? You tied with Ireland but they marked you for _tenth place_!" He laughed loudly.

Cyprus gave him the middle finger, and then walked away.

"At least _respond_ to constructive criticism!" Turkey hollered after him. He seethed and kicked the wall. "Your young brother is _much_ better! Isn't there _anyone_ I can level with?"

"Sadiq!"

Turkey immediately perked up at this voice and turned around. "_Salem_, Azer!"

A young woman ran to Turkey and gave him a warm hug. "I'm so happy to see you! Especially since I'm about to go onstage! I'm so nervous as it is!"

"Ah, you ranked second in our semi-final category, just behind me! You'll do fine, Azer." He patted her brunette head and managed a smile. "You have a strong song, after all."

"Hmm, that's true." She suddenly smiled very sinisterly. "And I have a _much_ better score than a _certain someone_…"

Turkey laughed very discreetly. "Please play nicely, Azer…"

"Azerbaijan." One of the techs walked up to them. "They're ready for you."

"_Iyi şanslar_," Turkey said to Azerbaijan.

She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you so much!"

* * *

**Once described as "one nation with two states", Turkey and Azerbaijan have always maintained a close sibling relationship. Each shares a common history, and through this history both have supported each other through wars, economic struggles, and military cooperation. To Turkey, his relationship with Azerbaijan is his "most important bilateral partnership" in foreign policy.**

* * *

They announced Azerbaijan onstage. For many of the countries in the audience, this mostly meant that this was the first country to sing for the evening, just ahead of Spain.

"Hey, she's hot!" Romano blurted out as an olive-skinned long-haired brunette came onto stage. She had golden-brown eyes and they seemed to be filled with energy. "And Spain has to follow _her_…he doesn't have a chance!"

Azerbaijan wasted no time in launching into her song. _"You are my man, you are my half. Tell me what's happening?"_

"She's singing in English," America said, clearly surprised.

"A lot of songs for Eurovision are sung in English," England pointed out. "Or were you not paying attention to that montage?"

"_Can I love you, forever, through this? Can I trust in you, forever, through this? I don't know how to stop! How to stop…"_

Romano's pocket began to hum. He yanked out his cell phone and saw a new text message. _"Be sure to cheer for me! Amor, Spain."_

Romano rolled his eyes and cussed in irritation. He looked back at the stage at Azerbaijan's performance. _"These tear drops. That drip drop, drip drop. Drip drop, drip drop, whoa-oh! Whoa-oh!"_

He grinned and texted back. _"This girl totally kicks your ass. How the hell can you beat her?"_ He sent the text and reclined in his chair. He didn't receive a response back, which suited him well.

Azerbaijan finished her performance and received a roaring applause. She bowed graciously before quickly departing the stage. As soon as she left, cell phones began to hum all over the building in certain countries' pockets. Almost automatically, they checked their cell phones for the text messages they'd received.

"I didn't give her any points," Lithuania said, looking at his cell phone with surprise.

"I gave her eight points," Poland said, looking at his. He nodded slightly. "That's reasonable. That dress she wore was, like, totally fabulous."

"I also gave her zero points," Estonia said.

"…Me too," England admitted.

"I gave her two points," Latvia said, looking at his phone. "That's good, right?"

"Wait, so you guys can vote on the performance?" America asked.

"All countries who enter Eurovision submit their score for each song," England explained. "_We_ don't score them, per se, but judges on our behalf do. They texted us the results of their votes." He shook his head slightly. "The texting made life so much easier. We use to either have to sit _with_ the judges to find out the score, or find out vicariously…"

Italy pulled out his cell phone and checked it. "They didn't send _me_ a score!"

"That's because we DIDN'T ENTER!" Romano snapped. "Our scores don't count!"

"S-So I can't vote for Germany?" Tears filled Italy's eyes. "A-A-And you can't vote for Spain-nii-san?"

"I WASN'T GOING TO VOTE FOR **HIM** ANYWAYS!"

* * *

"Twelve points, Azer!" Turkey announced, showing her his cell phone. "My judge gave you a perfect score, as always!"

"Thank you so much!" She gave him another hug while laughing to herself. "I'm still on my performance high. Just wait! _He_ won't be able to top me!"

Turkey's smile slipped slightly. "N-Now Azer…"

"I gave you eight points."

Azer lit up once more with genuine glee. "_Georgia_!" she spun around to see a young man standing there with strikingly ash blonde hair but incredibly dark eyes. "Thank you! That was nice of you!"

Georgia shrugged slightly. "My judges don't generally give you a high score, Azer, but I thought you did great."

"_Bëli, Sağ olun_!" She ran over to give him a hug and kiss as well. "I really do appreciate it!"

* * *

"**Although both have always been neighbors, Azerbaijan and Georgia didn't truly become close until after both had declared their independence from the Ottoman Empire. Both then bonded together as an alliance against invading Russian troops in the 1920s, and remained close through their annexing by the USSR. To this day, both countries maintain a very close relationship. So close, in fact, that neither knows where the other's border ends."**

* * *

Azerbaijan stiffened, and suddenly rose up on her tip-toes to glare over Georgia's shoulders. "I just saw **HIM**!"

Georgia's brow knitted slightly. "…Him?"

"You know who," Turkey said grimly, rubbing at his forehead.

"Oh." He winced slightly. "I won't tell you how to handle your foreign policy, Azer, but this is a peaceful event. Can you please be civil for the sake of the contest?"

Azerbaijan frowned, but she relaxed back down to her own height and let Georgia go. "As long as he stays away from me I'll be happy. That jerk…knowing him he probably gave me zero points! As usual!"

"You don't necessarily vote for him, either," Georgia pointed out.

And _you_, Sadiq!" Azerbaijan spun around to glare at Turkey. "You gave him SIX points last year! _Six points_! That's six points too many!"

"Azer, I'm trying to be bipartisan. And it was a really good song last year—"

"Excuse me." It was one of the stage hands. "Spain is about to take the stage, so we need quiet back here."

The three countries muttered acknowledgements as the Spaniard himself strode past them towards the stage. He looked quite suave for his performance, wearing black slacks and a black silk shirt with a few loose buttons. He was positively smiling, as if nothing was bothering him.

"He doesn't have a chance," Azerbaijan said confidently. "Our scores are too high."

"None of the Big Four have won in thirteen years," Turkey said slowly. "But it really depends, I guess."

* * *

A body fell into the open seat beside Finland. "Hey guys!"

Sweden glared at Denmark, while Finland was a little more civil. "D-Don't you need to be backstage getting ready?"

"Bah, I have 'till the end of the show!" Denmark stretched his arms out over the back of Finland's seat and the empty seat to his right. "So I'm going to hang out with you guys!"

"But…why not go and hang out with Norway or Iceland?" Finland was trying to be civil, really. But he knew that Denmark was primarily there to antagonize Sweden.

"Nonsense, Norge is going up after Spain! I shouldn't bother him before then! Besides…" Denmark grinned stupidly to himself. "To see his performance from the audience is much better than watching it backstage."

"So that's why you're out here?" Finland asked warily.

The arena lights dimmed suddenly, signaling the start of the next song.

"Spain-nii-san!" Italy cheered loudly.

"He's totally going to choke!" Romano laughed.

"_Algo pequeñito. Algo chiquitito_." Th stage was still dim, but the audience could see Spain's silhouette, along with the various dancers he had onstage with him. "_Una rosa blanca, una caricia, un beso dulce y un perdón_."

"Well, _he's_ singing in Spanish," America pointed out.

"It's not against the rules to sing in your native language!" England barked.

"_Un gesto tierno, una mirada, un abrazo o una flor_." The lights onstage came up abruptly, revealing Spain in the center of his dancers, a surprisingly intense look on his face. "_Algo pequeñito. Algo chiquitito_."

"Hey, look!" Denmark shouted, pointing to the side of the stage. A figure was purposefully strolling onto the stage!

"W-Who is that?" Finland demanded, watching the intruder mingle with the dancers. The man immediately joined the dancing. "He's interfering with the performance!"

"Wait, isn't that the asshole that keeps running out in the middle of UEFA games?" Romano asked. He didn't look concerned, but there was a slight hitch to his voice.

"That would be "Jimmy Jump"," England said gravely. "And yes, it's the same person."

"What's UEFA?" America asked.

"A football tournament, you git!" England sighed.

"Football? If it's football, how come _I've_ never heard of it? Well, I bet it ain't as big as the Superbowl!"

"Not THAT football!"

"_Algo pequeñito! Oh oh oh ooooh!_" Spain sang out, not seeming to notice Jimmy Jump dancing crazily right in front of him. "_Algo chiquitito! Oh oh oh ooooh! Cosas simples que ahora no me das! Que te pido con locura si no quieres terminar—_"

"Jimmy Jump is usually funny, but he's ruining Spain-nii-san's performance!" Italy complained as Jimmy Jump gestured to Spain with "spirit" fingers. Security was at the edge of the stage, trying to grab him.

"Ruining the performance?" Romano laughed, despite his earlier irritation. "This mess is covering up that idiot's horrible singing! Besides, Jimmy Jump is one of _his_ citizens, so he's got nobody to blame but himself!"

"_Hoy decides si quererme o romperme el corazón…_"

Spain suddenly jumped off the stage, slamming into Jimmy Jump and knocking _him_ into the waiting arms of security. He landed gracefully on his feet in the aisle.

"What the fuck is he doing?" Romano wondered aloud.

"_Algo pequeñito_!" Spain sang out. He started to inch up the aisle. "_Algo muy bonito!_"

"Wait…don't me…" Romano pressed his back into the seat.

Spain came further up the aisle, gesturing with his free hand. "_Tu pelo al viento que se enred entre mis manos al calor!_"

Romano glanced at Italy in horror. "Oh God, he's not coming down _this_ way, is he?"

"_Has sabido comprender que las pequeñas cosas son las que!_" It was fairly obvious now that Spain was looking directly at Romano, and walking down the aisle straight at him!

"Tell me he's not coming towards me," Romano said, looking between Italy, the other countries in their row, and Spain. "Tell me he—_fuck_!" He sank quickly into his seat. "I-I'm not here, okay? Tell him I'm not here!"

"_Ahora trata de cambiar que el resto de las cosas ya se arreglarán!_"

Spain made a wild leap and landed on his knees next to Romano's seat. Nonchalantly, without breaking note, he grabbed Romano's sleeve and yanked him straight up in his seat. "_Algo pequeñito! Oh oh oh ooooh! Algo chiquitito! Oh oh oh ooooh_!"

"W-What the fuck are you doing?" Romano screamed, batting Spain's hands away. "We're on live TV! LIVE TV ALL OVER EUROPE!"

"_Ciao!_" Italy greeted obliviously.

"_Algo pequeñito! Oh oh oh ooooh! Algo chiquitito! Oh oh oh ooooh_!" Spain continued to sing to Romano, his voice having a very velvety texture to it. "_En tus manos tienes la occasion—_"

"I don't know whether to find this romantic or to feel sorry for Romano!" Finland laughed. All of the Nordics were turned in their seats to watch this spectacle.

"Hmm," Demark said thoughtfully. "It's almost as if Spain is singing the song _to_ him!"

"…That's because he _is_," Sweden said.

"_Y no romperme el __**CORAZÓN**_**!**" Spain was practically screaming out the song now, while Romano sat there, red faced and cussing under his breath.

"Hey, we're like totally on live television!" Poland cheered. He leaned over Lithuania and Italy to wave at the camera at Spain's back.

"Hey! Japan's here!" Turkey cheered, seeing the country staring blankly at Spain with the other countries in the row. "I just _knew_ he would come to see me!"

"_Algo pequeñito! Oh oh oh ooooh! Algo chiquitito! Oh oh oh ooooh!_" Spain was totally into it now, holding Romano's limp hand in his. The other country didn't even bother fighting him anymore."_Cosas simples que ahora no me das! Que te pido con locura si no quieres terminar—_"

"Spain is really in his game now," France observed from the side of the stage. "Serenading Romano in front of the whole world…truly brave!"

Backstage, Prussia was watching this on the green room television. He was laughing so hard he was jumping up and down. "West! You have to see this! This is the funniest shit I've ever seen! Oh my God, look at Romano's face!"

Germany was too busy sulking in the corner to care. "Why…why this song…"

"_En tus manos tienes la ocasión Hoy decides si quererme o romperme el corazón_!" Spain finished with an amazing flourish, letting Romano go and gesturing to the ceiling dramatically. He received a loud, thunderous applause and bowed deeply to the audience.

Italy stood up and clapped. "Yay, Spain-nii-san!"

Romano said nothing.

Pockets hummed once more and the countries checked for the scores they gave to Spain. "Two points, again," Latvia said.

"Eight points," Lithuania said.

"Zero," Estonia said.

"Me too," Poland said surprisingly. "I thought it was, like, totally epic."

"I, too, gave him nothing," England said slowly.

"You're a jerk!" America laughed.

"_I_ didn't score him!"

"Four points," Finland observed.

"Nothing," Denmark said. He huffed in disgust. "And it was a love song directed to somebody…my judge must be out of touch."

"…Zero," Sweden said neutrally.

France gaped at his phone in horror. "I didn't give him ANY points?"

"West!" Prussia fumed, glaring at his phone. "Let me see your phone! Mine says we gave Spain NO points! What does yours say?"

Germany continued to sulk. "Why…"

Italy sat back down and turned to Romano. "Nii-san—"

He trailed off. Romano was no longer sitting there. And Spain was gone as well. "Eh? Nii-san? Where'd he go?"

* * *

I'd intended this to be a one-shot, but this fanfic kind of ran away from me and it's looking to be pretty long. I'll have the next part up in a couple of days, I promise!

Yes, there is a real Jimmy Jump. He's known internationally for running out into live sports events and creating a spectacle, mostly in UEFA tournaments. He_ did_ run out onstage during Spain's Eurovision performance this year, though he didn't actually dance as crazily as he did here. Because of his interference, Spain's singer Daniel Diges was allowed to perform twice.

Cyprus has confirmed to be a boy, and so has Moldova. With Ireland all I have is Himaruya's wish to make her a girl, and I made Wallachia also a girl because according to Hetalia Hungary _really_ hates this territory. The genders for the rest of the OC territories were decided by me, and not canon. Yet.

Here are some translations for the songs not sung in English. You can find these lyrics anywhere on the website but also at Eurovision's website:

Switzerland

"_Il pleut de l'or, chaque fois que tu me parles d'amour, Il pleut de l'or…_"

"It's raining gold, whenever you talk about love, It's raining gold…"

Finland

"_Mä laulan, Paista päivä kulje kunnon kuu, Työlki ellää, mut kaupal rikastuu. Mitä mina laulan kun olen…_"

"I sing, daylight, shine, full Moon, travel safely. Working is a way to make a living, but you get rich by trading. What to sing when I am unhappy…"

Netherlands

"_Shalaie shalala, shalalie Shalala, Het gaat niet uit m'n kop! Shalalie Shalala, shalalie Shalala, Ik sta d'r's morgens mee op!_"

"Shalaie Shalala, shalalie Shalala, I can't get it out of my head! Shalalie Shalala, shalalie Shalala, it's there when I get up in the morning!"

Most of Spain's song is here, so here's the English translation, which can also be found at Eurovision's website:

"Something tiny  
Something really little  
A white rose, a caress  
A sweet kiss and an apology

Something tiny  
Something really little  
A tender gesture, a look  
An embrace, a flower.

Something tiny  
Something really little  
A simple "I love you" with sweetness,  
with affection andwith passion.

That's all I ask you, my love  
My life is falling apart, you're breaking my heart  
Try to change soon  
Time is really running out now.

Something tiny, oh oh oh ooooh  
Something really little, oh oh oh ooooh  
Simple things that you're not giving me now  
I´m asking you for like crazy, if you don't want it to end  
Something tiny, oh oh oh ooooh  
Something really little, oh oh oh ooooh  
The choice is in your hands  
Today you decide whether to love me  
Or to break my heart

Something tiny  
something really pretty  
Your wind-blown hair entwined in the warmth of my hands  
You managed to understand  
That it's the small things that keep this fire alive  
Now, try to change,  
The rest will sort itself out

Something tiny, oh oh oh ooooh  
Something really little, oh oh oh ooooh  
The simple things that now you are giving me  
I love you like crazy and will always love you  
Something tiny, oh oh oh ooooh  
Something really little, oh oh oh ooooh  
The choice is in your hands  
You decided to love me and not to break my heart,  
Not to break my heart

Something tiny, oh oh oh ooooh  
Something really little, oh oh oh ooooh  
Simple things that you're not giving me now  
I´m asking you for like crazy, if you don't want it to end  
Something tiny, oh oh oh ooooh  
Something really little, oh oh oh ooooh  
The choice is in your hands  
Today you decide whether to love me  
Or to break my heart"


	2. Norway, Moldova, Belgium, Belarus

Update: It has come to my attention that the Swedish I've used in this fanfic is...incredibly shoddy. I would like to thank The Mad Joker for re-translating the Swedish sentences for me.

Chapter 2

"_You are like a sunset, behind a mountain somewhere…_"

"Huh?" there was mass confusion over the audience as Norway's voice rose from the darkened stage. Did he miss his cue? Or did something else happen?

"_And when, I cannot see you, I know you're still there…_"

The stage lights abruptly came on, revealing a very stoic Norway in a casual white suit standing in front of the microphone. Musicians scrambled onstage to meet him in the song.

"…Oh boy," Denmark said slowly. "Norge came out before anyone was ready."

"_Because my heart is yours, I'll never leave you. Though we are far apart, I'm by your side. My love is never gone, I feel it rise again. Through it all, now my heart is yours…_"

The musicians caught up with Norway. But he continued to sing the song rather blandly. "_You say I am the moonlight…I watch you at night. And when, you cannot see me, I'm still there, in the sky…Because my heart is yours—_"

"…Wait a minute," Denmark said quietly. "Is he…?"

"_My love is never gone; I feel it rise again_—"

"_Åh, min gud!_" Denmark gasped. He pressed his hands to his cheeks. "Is he singing about _**me**_? He is, isn't he?"

Finland looked mildly uncomfortable. "Um…I don't know…"

"_Because my heart is yours, I'll never leave you!_" at least Norway was starting to sound a little more enthusiastic now. "_Though we are far apart, I'm by your side_!"

"I feel like he's speaking right to me! It's the same as with Spain! Oh…" Denmark giggled very strangely. "Norge is singing a love song to _me_!"

"Uh, is he okay?" Sealand asked Sweden.

"…It's fine," Sweden said. "He did the same thing last year with _Fairytale_."

Norway finished his song with minimal fanfare, though the audience clapped enthusiastically for him. He bowed stiffly and walked offstage. Iceland hurried right over to him. "Norway!" he gasped. "They're angry with you! I mean, _really_ angry with you! You didn't wait to be introduced, and you started before they were ready! They might penalize you for this!"

Norway simply shrugged. "Did you think they would let me win again this year?"

* * *

The votes went out and the countries checked their pockets.

"Seven points," Estonia read.

"Zero," Latvia said.

"And me," Lithuania said.

"So did I," Poland said mildly. "But that was, like, one of the greatest love songs I, like, totally ever heard."

"I also gave him nothing," England said.

"I'm noticing a trend," America said. "Three countries have performed, and you haven't scored any of them! Are you hogging the points?"

"I told you already! It's not _me_ that's scoring them!"

"All right, let me check!" Denmark cheered happily, pulling out his phone. "I just know I gave him a perfect—**FIVE POINTS**?"

Finland jumped at his shout and glanced at him. "A-Are you okay, Denmark?"

"My judge gave Norge FIVE POINTS!" Denmark shouted. He clenched the phone in his fist. "Norge just sang the most amazing love song to me! I don't reward him with FIVE FUCKING POINTS!"

"…I gave him four," Sweden said.

"And, uh…" Finland checked his phone rather embarrassedly. "I didn't give him any."

Denmark was too angry to care about _their_ scores. "That idiot judge! Why, I oughta…" he stamped the numbers hard into the phone. It didn't take long for his judge to answer. "_De havde bedre lytte til mig, de __forpulede rovhul__! Hvem helvede mener De, at de er at give ham et lavt pointtal! Jeg vil udtrykke min mund op deres ass hvis hovedet ikke allerede op dér!_"

(Note: If you would like a translation for this, please check online.)

Finland gaped at Denmark. "Wow…I'm glad I'm not on the receiving end of _that_…"

Sweden coughed very discreetly.

Sealand's pocket suddenly hummed. "Hey! I think _I _got a vote in, too!"

"But you aren't a participating country," Finland said.

Sealand checked his phone and sighed. "Never mind. Somebody is calling me, is all." He flipped the phone open. "Hello?"

"_Tjena, brorsan,"_ the caller answered him._ "Kan jag få prata med mamma?_"

Sealand was silent for a moment before he spoke. "I'm sorry, but you have the wrong number." He abruptly hung up.

"Who was that?" Sweden asked.

Sealand shrugged. "I don't know. They spoke in some language I didn't understand."

* * *

"Nii-san isn't back yet," Italy said, looking up the aisle. "Where did he go?"

"He, like, totally left with Spain," Poland said blandly.

"He _left_? But where did they go?"

Poland gave him a long look before he shook his head. "Who knows?"

Lithuania hissed very slightly, and nursed his nose.

"Liet, are you okay?" Poland immediately perked up and turned to his friend.

"I-I'm fine," Lithuania said. "It's just that the medication they gave me is wearing off a little." He laughed slightly. "At least I don't have to perform tonight! I can stay as a spectator!"

"There's, like, totally nothing funny about this," Poland said harshly.

Lithuania's shoulders slumped slightly. "…I know."

The lights dimmed once more. "Moldova is next," America said, reading the program. "Is she in Europe?"

"Yes, and Moldova is a _he_!" England snapped, shaking his head.

"Oh, is it, like, totally one of those vampires?" Poland asked.

"…Vampires?" Japan asked.

"Well…Moldova used to be part of Romania," Latvia said. He shivered slightly. "They all gave me the creeps during the Cold War…"

"Romania?" America exclaimed. "Hey! That's the setting of the _Castlevania_ games, isn't it?"

"Do you mean _Akumajō Dracula_, America-san?" Japan asked. "Hai, that takes place in Romania." He glanced towards the stage. "I've never seen a real-life vampire before…"

"They _aren't_ vampires!" England snapped. "It's just that most vampire legends come from Eastern Europe…most prominently Romania!"

* * *

Moldova looked at his two siblings and sighed. "I'm nervous…and hungry. I don't know what's worse."

"You'll be fine." Wallachia placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled. "You did great in the semi-final. And you can always count on us to give you a high score."

Transylvania stood the tallest of the three and his hair hung loose around his shoulders, whereas Moldova's shoulder-length hair was in a ponytail. "As for dinner, we'll look for something to eat after the show."

Several people within the proximity inched away from the siblings.

"Moldova, we're ready for you," a stagehand told them.

Moldova nodded. "Then, I'll go."

Transylvania watched their brother walk towards the stage. Wallachia however, was casually looking over her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"...I keep feeling like Hungary is nearby," she said. "And with a frying pan ready. I wouldn't mind a good fight, though..."

Transylvania sighed shortly. "It will be no skin off _her_ back if a fight breaks out, but if _we're_ caught fighting we could be disqualified."

"I know. But it would be fun."

* * *

The audience hushed as Moldova took the stage. He held a microphone in his right hand, but most notably the stage was empty of people besides him. This was quite strange, considering that musical instruments were laid out, waiting.

Suddenly, Moldova gracefully pointed to the violin. The instrument swept up into the air, _on its own_, and began playing a fast beat.

"Not vampires, huh?" America asked.

England said nothing, gaping with the rest of the audience.

"_O-oh, forget! Let me breathe, let me live! Just run away from my mind!_" Moldova bellowed out with a surprisingly strong voice for his slight body. "_O-oh, forgive! I don't need, I won't breathe! Just get away from my life!_"

He pointed to the idle saxophone. It started belting out a solo, while the violin remained floating in the air. The spectacle was certainly…unique.

A body quickly fell into the seat beside Italy. "Nii-san!" Italy cheered. "There you are! You were gone for such a long time!"

Romano said nothing, though his face was quite flushed.

"Wait…Nii-san." Italy looked at him closely. "Why are you sitting at an angle?"

Romano glared at him, and Poland sighed. "There's, like, so many questions you so totally don't need to ask, Italy."

"Why not?"

"_Idiota_," Romano grumbled.

"_¡Buenas_ _noches!_"

Romano stiffened as Spain cheerfully took the seat directly behind him. Spain looked absolutely pleased with himself. "How is everyone doing?"

"Spain-nii-san, why is Romano acting fu—" Italy began.

Romano grabbed Italy by his collar and pulled him close. "If you want to live to see that potato bastard's performance, you will _be quiet_!"

Italy gulped audibly. "_S-Sì_…"

"_Buono_." Romano let him go.

"Oh, by the way Romano," Poland said. "You, like, totally have this huge hickey, like, right on the side of your neck!"

* * *

Moldova finished his performance and got a loud applause for it. The countries each checked their phones for the scores they gave to him.

"Nothing," Denmark said, checking his phone.

"Me too," Finland said.

"And me," Sweden said.

"I also gave him nothing."

All of the Nordics jumped as Norway came over to them and took the empty seat beside Denmark. "H-Hey Norge!" Denmark squeaked. He suddenly looked very nervous. "I-I-I just wanted to say _tak_!"

Norway looked at him blankly. "For what?"

"B-But good job on your performance," Finland cut in. "Is Iceland still backstage?"

"_Ja_." Norway tucked his phone away. "I was going to stay with him until he went onstage, but he said I was making him nervous." Norway shrugged neutrally. "I just called Faroe and Greenland and asked if they could send text messages to him for good luck. That should help."

"F-Faroe and Greenland?" Denmark said. He forced a shaky smile. "Norge, please keep in mind that they _do_ live in my house—"

"And they wouldn't have become your territories if _I _hadn't introduced them to you."

* * *

"**The Kelmar Union was established in 1387 with the unification of Denmark, Norway, and Sweden under the Danish rule. With this union Norway brought with him his three primary territories; Iceland, Greenland, and the Faroe Islands. The Union was officially nullified in 1523, when Sweden and Finland ran away together. Denmark and Norway continued to remain as a union until 1814, when Sweden claimed Norway as his spoils of the Napoleonic War****s. Norway was forced to leave behind Iceland, Greenland, and the Faroe Islands with Denmark, though Iceland would later become his own independent country and both Greenland and Faroe would slowly but surely inched towards their own independence."**

* * *

Denmark smiled, and draped an arm around Norway's shoulders. "But I _do_ know you feel about me now."

Norway plucked his arm off his shoulders. "I don't know what you're talking about.

"Wait, did _any of _us give him points?" Poland asked as each of the countries checked their scores. Nobody in their group had scored Moldova's performance. "It wasn't exactly a strong song, but not, like, totally horrible!"

"Ten points," Transylvania told Moldova as he approached the siblings. "I thought we'd give you a perfect score, but our judge had other ideas."

"We'll make sure he pays for it later," Wallachia said, her tone sweet but slightly sinister.

Moldova shrugged neutrally. "Only five countries gave me a score, so I'm not offended."

"Wait, how does he know that?" one stagehand whispered to another. "They aren't supposed to know their scores right now!"

"It's because they're _vampires_!" the another hissed back. "Didn't you see him using his vampirism to make his instruments play?"

Though they were nearly twenty feet away, Transylvania glared at them. The two quickly hurried off.

* * *

"_The next country we would like to present is Cyprus!"_

"Hey, West." Prussia poked Germany a few times in the shoulder. "West?"

Germany said nothing.

"Come on, man, you've been sulking ever since I got here! We won't win if you go onstage looking miserable like this!"

"…We won't win anyways," Germany said neutrally. Austria was ignoring them, watching Cyprus take the stage on the nearby television. His skin looked darkly tanned, and his hair was very dark. But his eyes were surprisingly green. He wasted no time in launching into his song. "_Time changes everything…even you and I have changed. Then rain the winters bring has made us fade away…_"

"What the hell do you mean we won't win?" Prussia demanded. "And don't talk like that anyways! Our boss will kick our asses if she hears you sounding so pessimistic!"

Germany looked at his brother for a moment. Suddenly, he grabbed his arm. "I've got it! _You _are German too, Aniki!"

"…I would hope so, West," Prussia said slowly. "Why?"

"Why don't _you_ sing the song in my place?"

"R-Really?" Prussia's whole face lit up. "You'll let me shine in my awesomeness all by myself?"

"_Ja_, absolutely!" Germany said. Hope flared inside him, along with determination. "And if we win, you can bask in all the glory and hog it all to yourself!"

"You're shrugging your responsibility onto _Prussia_?" Austria demanded, aghast.

"Fuck yeah!" Prussia yelled. He shook Germany's hand as he stood. "You can count on me, West!"

"_Wunderbar_!" Germany cheered, feeling happy all over again. _This is perfect! Now I don't have to sing that song, and if Aniki sings it our boss can't complain!_

Prussia clapped his hands together. "Okay, I'm ready to go! Now, what's the song again?"

Germany's face fell. "What's the song? You mean you don't _know_?"

"Well, come on! Meetings with the boss are boring! But I'll just Google the song, or something, to get me ready! So, what's the song?"

Germany ducked his head and grumbled under his breath. "…_Satellite_."

"Eh?" Prussia leaned towards him. "I didn't hear you, West. What's the song again?"

"_SATELLITE_!" Germany shouted.

Prussia gaped at him in horror for a moment. "Excuse me?"

"_Satellite_," Austria clarified for Prussia. "The song sung by Lena Meyer-Landrut." Behind him, Cyprus continued with his song. "_Tell me, tell me about your feelings. Tell me about your stories. Look into my eyes and come on closer. Make me immortal with a kiss…_"

Cyprus's voice flooded the silent green room for several moments before Prussia reached out and touched Germany on the shoulder. "I appreciate the offer, but…no."

"**WHAT**?" Germany screamed.

"Oh, look at this," Prussia said quickly, checking his phone. "We gave Cyprus zero points! Isn't that a shame?"

"Aniki—"

"I gotta go bye guys!" Prussia ran out of the green room.

"ANIKI!" Germany ran after him.

Austria pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "_Idioten_…"

* * *

"Cyprus." Greece was awake now, though cats clung to him, and he approached the other country as he walked through the wings. "I just got the score back. My judge gave you a perfect score."

"Thank you," Cyprus said sincerely. "I'm certain to return the favor, as always."

"I go…after Ireland," Greece said slowly. He cuddled one of his cats in his arms. "That's still a little ways off."

* * *

"**Cyprus has an extensive history of being conquered and ruled by several countries. From Egypt to Persia, Rome to Byzantine, and so many others in between, there seemed little time for him to actually grow as his own person. For a time he was occupied under Turkey in the 19****th**** century, though he hated it, and found himself uniting with Greece several times in revolt. Tensions were further incensed between those of Greek and Turkish descent by the Treaty of Guarantee in 1960, which nullified Cyprus's status as a British colony but was heavily slanted to favor Turkish-Cypriots. In 1974, Turkey invaded Cyprus with the intention of reclaiming him, but with the help of Greece Cyprus managed to battle back some of Turkey's army. Turkey, however, would claim 38% of the northern half of Cyprus as his territory, naming it the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus."**

* * *

"Oh, I wanted to tell you." Cyprus smiled slightly. "I think I saw Japan in the audience."

"R-Really?" Greece's whole face lit up. "So he answered my invitation?"

"I guess so—OW!" Cyprus jerked forward, favoring his left leg.

Greece looked down. The Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus was standing beside his bigger brother. The tiny country looked quite poised. "Turkey says he gave you zero points! Nya nya!"

"_Kolo-koutsoubelo_!" Cyprus cursed in Greek. He jumped to his feet, but Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus was ready to run. Before he did, though, he kicked Greece hard for good measure.

Greece watched the brothers run off as he nursed his leg. "…Ow."

* * *

Bosnia and Herzegovina, as a single country, sang a duet next, though the original song had been sung primarily by one person. For the countries sitting in the audience, they paid attention closely.

Almost.

Spain giggled to himself as he punched a text message into his phone.

"What are you doing?" Romano asked, looking over his shoulder.

"I'm sending Netherlands a message!" Spain laughed. "It's entirely in Spanish, which will make him quite angry!"

"Is this because Belgium is next?" America asked.

"Belgium is next?" Romano exclaimed. "Woo-hoo, Belgium!" he tried to jump up, but visibly winced and settled back down. It had been an awkward proclamation anyways, since Bosnia and Herzegovina were still performing.

On the other side of the audience sat Netherlands, who was poised rather stoically. He received his text from Spain, and it did make him quite angry.

Beside him, Luxembourg took his phone and looked at the message. "I can't understand Spanish," she said slowly. "But is he saying he wants to have sex with you, Onii-san?"

Netherlands gritted his teeth. "If there's anyone he wants to…do _that_ with, it isn't me! He's only making fun of the fact that Belgium doesn't want me here!"

"Onee-san will come around," Luxembourg said confidently. "Some day she will. Here." she started texting. "I'll send him a message back."

Spain checked his phone after it hummed, signaling a text message. "_Back off or I'll kick Italy's ass again. Luxembourg_." Spain looked up. "Kick Italy's ass? Again?"

Italy looked uncomfortable. "Uh…er…she…"

"A GIRL kicked your ass once?" Romano yelled. He shrieked with laughter. "And that girl was LUXEMBOURG? That's so pathetic, _fratello_!"

Bosnia and Herzegovina finished, and everyone checked their phones. Nobody in this group, however, had scored this country, though Sweden admitted he'd given them three points.

Then, it was Belgium's turn. She came onto the stage, wearing a beautiful white fluffy dress that came down to her knees. A guitar was slung around her and she smiled at the audience. Netherlands tried to wave to her, but if she saw him she gave no reaction.

Romano shoved his fingers into his mouth and whistled loudly. "Belgium!"

"You weren't _this_ enthusiastic for me," Spain complained quietly.

Belgium smiled and strummed her guitar. "_People always say: "Tom, this has gone too far"._" She stumbled a little over the original singer's name, but continued smoothly. "_I'm not afraid to chase my dreams. Just me and my guitar_."

"Everyone's singing in English now," America said.

"Does it bother you?" England asked.

"…No. It makes it easier to understand the song."

"SHHHH!" Romano snapped.

"_Tell me that I got it wrong. Tell me everything will be okay. And before I fall…_" Belgium hit the slight high note perfectly. "_Tell me they'll play my songs, And tell me they'll sing the words I'll say…When darkness falls…_"

"…Not bad," Prussia said slowly from the wings. He quickly ran though when he spotted Germany.

"_Surely I'll find my way. 'Cause I'm not afraid to try. Even a world of love and hope, Can't guarantee that prize…_"

"Nee-san sounds so beautiful!" Italy cheered, clapping his hands.

Spain giggled as he sent out yet another text message to the Netherlands.

"_So maybe I should get a nine to five. And I don't wanna let it go, There's so much more to life…_"

Netherlands snarled at his phone. "Bastard…"

"Let me see that," Luxembourg said, taking the phone from him.

"_And tell me they'll sing the words I'll say. When darkness falls…_"

Spain got a message back. _"Why is Romano cheering more for Belgium than he did for you? When has he ever hit her or cursed at her as he does with you? Maybe it's because he's likes her more, non?"_

Spain's good mood was gone in an instant. He slowly looked at Romano ahead of him, who was watching Belgium sing. Her song ended shortly thereafter and Romano yelled, "_Bravaccio_!" and clapped furiously.

Belgium curtsied and smiled as she left the stage. Everyone quickly checked their phones. "Ten points!" Denmark cheered.

"Six," Finland said.

"Ten for me, too," Norway said neutrally.

"Great minds think alike!" Denmark laughed.

"That's what _you_ think," Norway said.

"Two," Sweden said.

"How come your score is so much lower than theirs?" Sealand asked.

"Because his taste in music _sucks_!" Denmark laughed.

Sweden glared dangerously at Denmark, and a dark aura surrounded him. Finland 'eeped' and raised his hands. "Calm down, Su-san, _please_!"

Backstage, Germany managed to grab Prussia in a full-nelson. "Aniki, we had a deal!"

"West, guess what?" Prussia interrupted. "We just gave Belgium a perfect score!"

"Eh?" Germany loosened his grip in surprise. "Really?'

"_Ja_. Bye!" And he ran off once more.

"I…still haven't given out points," England said slowly. "Wow. This feels awkward…"

"Three points," Estonia said in surprise.

"Four," Latvia said.

"Seven," Lithuania said, though he winced slightly. "Where did I put my pain medication?"

"Here." Poland tossed him a bottle as he checked his score. "Ten points. Totally deserving!"

"I gave her six points!" Netherlands said enthusiastically. "She'll _definitely _appreciate that, right?"

"…Maybe," Luxembourg said.

Spain looked down at his phone. "I didn't score her," he said surprisingly.

"That's because you're an asshole," Romano said over his shoulder.

"Nii-san, that's rude!" Italy scolded. "Spain-nii-chan didn't decide to give her no points! That's just his judge!"

"That's right, _his_ judge," Romano said flatly. "And he's the idiot who chose him!"

"_Why is Romano cheering more for Belgium than he did for you? When has he ever hit her or cursed at her as he does with you? Maybe it's because he's likes her more, non?"_

Spain snapped to his feet suddenly, startling everyone around him. He grabbed Romano by his arm and pulled him out of his seat. "You're coming with me."

"W-What?" Romano demanded as he was yanked out of his seat. "What the fuck are you talking about? I'm not going anywhere with you again!"

Spain glared at him, and Romano paused in what was about to be an onslaught of insult. "Just be quiet and come with me."

Italy watched them leave as Serbia took the stage. "Where are they going now?"

"Maybe Romano, like, totally needs an oral examination," Poland said off-handedly.

Lithuania choked on his pain pills.

* * *

Serbia's song blared over the intercoms backstage, but Spain didn't notice. He dragged Romano into an open green room and shoved him inside, locking the door behind him.

"What the fuck do you want _now_?" Romano demanded. He folded his arms over his chest. "I can barely walk, _thanks to you_, and I can't sit straight! Even my idiot brother notices!"

Spain suddenly maneuvered him backwards and lifted him up, sitting him on the edge of the table in the room. "You—ow!" Romano smacked Spain. "I told you that hurt!"

"Why?" Spain asked calmly.

"Huh?" Romano stared at him blankly. "Why what?"

"Why did you cheer so much for Belgium, and yet you couldn't say one nice thing about my performance? I sang my song _to_ you, Romano, and yet you haven't thanked me or praised me."

"_Praised_?" Romano snapped. "You humiliated me on live TV, which is broadcasted all over Europe! Then you take me backstage and bend me over, and—"

"Do you hate me?" Spain interrupted harshly. "Is that why you dismiss my song? Why you call me names, and hit me all the time? Because you sure showed a _hell_ of a lot more enthusiasm for Belgium than you did for me, and _she_ wasn't even singing to you!"

Romano gaped at him for a moment before he shook his head. "Of _course_ I'm going to be nice to Belgium! Belgium is a _girl_ and she's always been there for me!"

"I'VE been there more times!" Spain demanded. "So why do you still hate me?"

"H-Hate you?" Romano sputtered. "Augh!" He rubbed a hand over his face before he punched Spain. Hard. "_Idiota pomodoro bastardo!_"

Spain nursed his shoulder, and his eyes were full of pain. But it probably had little to do with the blow. "Why am I a bastard? It's a very simple question, isn't it Romano?"

"I'm having sex with YOU and NOT Belgium!" Romano hollered. "If I wanted her like that, then I'd do it with her! I'm such an awesome and sexy man; I could have ANY partner! But I chose you, _idiota_! Just because I didn't cheer for your shitty song doesn't mean I hate you! If I hated you, would I even be sitting here with a _**sore ass**_?"

Spain stared at him as Romano heaved to catch his breath. "So…" he hesitated before he continued. "You _don't_ hate me?"

Romano gaped at him before he screamed again. "_Maledetto_—"

"ROMANO!" Spain cheered, hugging him tightly. "I'm so _feliz_! You don't hate me! You _love_ me!"

"Let's not jump to conclusions!" Romano snapped. "I never said—"

"_¡Mi amor! ¡Te quiero!_" Spain planted a sloppy kiss onto Romano's open mouth.

It was hard for things to stay so simple, really. Both countries ranked high all the time in polls of the world's greatest lovers. And a deep kiss such as this one left a sizzling impression on Romano. He seemed to melt into Spain's arms once more, moaning very softly as Spain's hand slid up his shirt, and over his chest—

The door slammed open. "I KNOW YOU'RE IN HERE ANI—Oh!"

The kiss broke and both countries looked over Spain's shoulder. Germany stood there in the doorway, looking horrified. He'd kicked the door straight open.

"_M-Mein Gott_!" Germany sputtered, his whole face red. "I'm so sorry! W-When I saw the door was locked I thought my Aniki was—"

"GET OUT!" Romano hollered, grabbing the nearest object and hurling it at him. "Dirty potato kraut-bastard!"

"R-Right!" Germany fled the room, quickly closing the door as the object collided with it.

Romano seethed in fury. "What the fuck does my brother see in him, anyways?"

* * *

"Big brother!"

Russia yelped in fear, and his body tensed and went cold. Visibly trembling, he slowly turned around. "B-Belarus?" he laughed feebly. "How are you?" _This is bad. I was able to avoid her, but now…_

Belarus gave her older brother a seductive, smoldering look. "I'm about to go onstage. Will you watch me?"

"R-Really?" Russia almost died from relief. "S-Sure, Belarus. Absolutely."

"And tell your judge to give me a high score," she added, stepping closer to Russia. He discreetly jumped back. "I haven't been here in the finals for a while, but I know I can count on _you_ for a perfect score."

"Uh…"

"I see that your perfect scores have been going to _another_ country the past few years," she added suspiciously. "But I am your sister. You won't deny me, right?"

"Um…"

"Belarus." A stagehand approached meekly. "We're ready for you."

Belarus glared at him. "I'm speaking with my brother! You all can wait!"

"Belarus, just go," Russia said quickly. "If you are late, they may penalize you."

"…All right." Belarus smiled strangely at her brother. "But you _will_ watch, right?"

"…_Da_," Russia said sheepishly. But when Belarus left, Russia went looking for a place to hide.

* * *

"Belarus…is next," America said slowly.

"Yay!" Lithuania cheered.

"You don't sound so enthused, America," England observed.

America shrugged. "I haven't exactly had a pleasant relationship with her since I called her out on the human rights violations occurring in her borders."

"I'd heard her boss swapped the songs at the last minute," Estonia said. He idly cleaned his glasses. "That has to be rough."

"Nii-san and Spain-nii-san aren't back yet," Italy said worriedly. "They'll miss her performance like with Serbia…"

"I doubt they, like, totally care," Poland said blandly. "And they won't be missing much."

"Feliks!" Lithuania demanded. "Belarus has a _beautiful_ voice!"

"I feel asleep during her semi-final performance. How in the hell did she, like, totally make it and not me?"

"_Feliks_!"

Belarus swept onto the stage. She was clad in a very beautiful black dress, which was covered in beaded sequins of butterflies. She curtsied to the audience and took position in front of the microphone. A soft piano began playing behind her.

"_I'm gonna tell you what's inside my soul_," she sang softly. "_We are so fragile just like melting snow…We'll get to come to see the beauty of love…_"

"Beauty of love?" America repeated. "But isn't she in love with her brother?"

"_And imagine…and imagine…Just imagine…_"

Belarus gestured to the ceiling, and a few butterflies suddenly took flight from the stage. "_And we're like butterflies, flying to the sun…The sun will never let us look inside…I believe that this will open up…But at the right time. Heartfully just wait for it, it will come…_"

"Why can't she be this nice off the stage?" Italy complained.

"The butterflies are, like, totally running away from her!" Poland laughed.

"Feliks, stop that!" Lithuania hissed.

"_And you deny the miracles possible…But you have to see anyway. And imagine…and imagine…Just imagine…_"

Something soft settled onto America's shoulder. He plucked it up between two fingers. "What the hell…?"

"That looks like a…" Japan suddenly looked sick.

"A _butterfly_?" America exclaimed. "I'm _covered_ in dead butterflies!" he scrubbed at his clothes furiously. "I knew she didn't like me, but to do THIS to me? Ew ew ew ew ew ew!"

"More likely the butterflies flew into the overhead lights," England said, glancing upwards warily.

"_And we're like butterflies, flying to the sun._ _The sun will never let us look inside…I believe that this will open—_"

Suddenly, a shout came up from the audience.

"_O JEZU_! THIS SONG MAKES ME WANT TO **CUT MY WRISTS**!"

"Feliks! That's a horrible thing to say!"

Belarus faltered very slightly at this shout, but continued. "_But at the right time. Heartfully just wait for it, it will come._"

"Poland, are you suicidal?" Italy cried out.

Poland scoffed. "Hell no. I, like, totally have so much to live for. But I think my ears are, like, totally bleeding."

"There's nothing wrong with this song!" Lithuania insisted. "You're just angry about my nose!"

"No, really, you think?" Poland snapped.

Belarus finished her song, as her butterflies either landed on people or were squashed or got fried in the lights. As she left the stage, once more cell phones hummed.

"Well, what a shock," Poland said sarcastically, checking his phone. "None of us scored her!"

"…I can't believe it," Lithuania said quietly.

Ukraine found Russia hiding behind a random curtain. "Russia?" she looked over her shoulder to make sure her boss couldn't see her and leaned closer. "What's wrong?"

"I'm hiding from Belarus," he said meekly. He slowly handed her his cell phone.

"I understand," Ukraine said quietly. "My judge gave her no points. And you?" she checked the message. "Oh. You gave her two points?"

He nodded stiffly. "_That's_ why I'm hiding."

* * *

This is turning out to be a lot of fun! And I'm glad you guys are enjoying it!

I hope my bias didn't show here. I fell in love with Norway's song, and I _really_ didn't like Belarus's song. I will give the band props though because apparently they'd been forced to switch songs _three days_ before the Eurovision semi-finals. But this chapter proved to be easier because all the songs mentioned were sung in English! I'll try to keep these updates steady!


	3. Ireland, Greece, United Kingdom, Georgia

Chapter 3

**Greenland (mobile)**

"_I hear you're going onstage soon. I also hear that you're singing in English again. That's cool; judges really like it when you don't sing in your native language. I know everyone's been bitching at you over that whole volcano thing, but since the air's been cleared now (literally) they shouldn't hold a lot of bias towards you._

"_Good luck. I haven't voted yet and I'm not allowed to vote for Denmark. So maybe I'll throw my lot in with you?"_

**Faroe (mobile)**

"_**Hallo**__! Norway called me and told me you were performing soon and that you were nervous! Don't be nervous! You got second place last year! But I wish you all the luck in the whole, wide world!_

"_**Orsaka meg**__! I've already voted for Norway! But I will definitely still cheer for you! You can do it! I know you can!"_

Iceland stared down at his cell phone. He pressed a hand to his forehead. "Now I'm even _more_ nervous knowing they're watching! What was Norway _thinking_?"

Mr. Puffin hopped into his lap, looking for a hug. Iceland obliged the small bird, though it did little to settle his nerves.

* * *

England looked at his watch and sighed. "Ireland's going onstage shortly. That means _I_ have to leave and get ready."

"Good luck!" America shouted without looking over his shoulder.

"Gee, thanks," England said sarcastically. He _did_ receive other well-wishes from the other countries and he turned to head back to the wings.

As he started back up the aisle though, he noticed a figure coming down the same way. A few people this person passed abruptly silenced. It made England a little uncomfortable.

However, once she was close enough England recognized her dark hair and the surprisingly serene face. "…Hello, Israel," he said uneasily.

"Hello." Israel spoke politely, although her tone was rather short. "I heard that America was—"

"He's over there." England gestured to him. "By the way, good luck tonight."

"You, too."

They passed each other civilly. England let out a shaky breath though as he did so.

Israel continued down the aisle until she reached the row America was sitting in. "Hello, America."

America's head whipped around and his whole face lit up. "_Israel_!" he launched out of his seat and over the other countries to reach her. Noticeably, everyone else in the row had fallen silent. "This is totally awesome!" he grabbed her hands and shook them vigorously. "I didn't know you participated in Eurovision until tonight!"

"They invited me in 1973," she explained. "Since then I've won three times."

"That's so cool! Ha, that's more than most of the countries who participate!" America didn't hear the grumbles of annoyance from other countries as he positively smiled at her. "If I could vote I'd give you a high score! But since I can't, good luck all the same!"

"Thank you, America."

* * *

"**Born into a land of conflict and unrest, Israel knows plenty about war. Granted territorial rule in the land called Palestine in 1948, Israel was once again a country for the first time in over a thousand years. But, she doesn't get along with her neighbors **_**at all**_**, and is most poignantly entangled in constant conflict over territory with those of Palestinian descent. Her greatest defender worldwide is also the first country to recognize her status; America. His immunity in the U.N. and his veto status at times have been the only thing to stop her from facing international war crimes due to her conflicts with other countries. America in turn defends her no matter what, and does not tolerate anyone speaking negatively about her, though this has caused great annoyance and problems with many other countries in the world."**

* * *

"Well, best of luck tonight!"

"Thank you. I do appreciate it."

Israel left to go backstage, and America jumped right back into his seat. "Wow, this is turning out to be a fun trip!"

He didn't notice the looks the other countries were giving him. "You, like, totally don't have tact do you?" Poland asked slowly.

America looked at him blankly before he shook his head. "Sorry, I'm not carrying any gum."

Someone took a seat behind Italy. "Hello, Veneziano."

"Belgium-nee-san!" Italy cheered, turning around in his seat. "You did wonderful tonight! But, Spain-nii-san and Romano went off somewhere! I don't know when they'll be back!"

Belgium giggled. "It's okay."

"_Why_ is she sitting over there?" Netherlands demanded. "There are plenty of seats here!"

"Why don't we go over and sit over there?" Luxembourg asked.

Netherlands jumped to his feet. "That's _just_ what we'll do!"

* * *

Ireland found her brother at a green room sink, pouring a packet of salt into a glass of water. He stirred the water and proceeded to gargle it. "You're warming up _now_? By God, you're on after Greece! And he goes after _me_!"

England spat out the salt water and glared over his shoulder. "Go bugger off, Ireland. You can't distract me from victory."

"That's my line," Ireland said firmly. "And speaking of victory, it's _my_ turn to go onstage." She turned around but glanced over her shoulder. "Let me show you how a _true_ victor obtains victories!"

"Sure," England said blandly. "Just like all the times you defeated me…oh, wait! _My _victories over you are more than _yours_ over _me_!"

It was the wrong thing to say; England realized that too late. His whole body stiffened as he saw a dark aura radiating out of the corner of his eye. "_T__uilí_!" she hollered, her eyes glowing dangerously.

"Ireland!" a stagehand ran over to her. "There you are, we've been looking for you! You have to hurry, you're due onstage!"

Abruptly, Ireland snapped back to normal. "I understand," she politely. But she glared at England. "Don't think I've forgotten this, _brother_."

England watched her leave, and looked down at his glass of saltwater. He sighed sadly. "Why do my siblings hate me?"

* * *

"_The next country we would like to present is Ireland!"_

"YEAH!" America shouted, clapping his hands enthusiastically.

"Hey, look," Norway said blandly as the country herself took the stage. "It's your ex-wife."

"My wh—ACK!" Denmark's body stiffened and the color drained from his face when he saw Ireland. "_Åh…lort…_"

"Ex-wife?" Finland said uneasily. "Well…wouldn't that apply to us all?"

"…I only have one wife," Sweden said, looking at Finland pointedly.

Ireland smiled sinisterly in their direction. Denmark abruptly slid down into his seat. "_Why_ did you guys choose to sit in the front row?"

"Hi, Ireland!" Sealand cheered obliviously.

* * *

"**It was the eighth century when Vikings first landed upon Ireland's coast and invaded her borders. Kidnapping women and forcing them into servitude and marriage, killing those who did not comply, the Vikings willfully overtook Ireland's house and made it their base of operations during the cold winters in Scandinavia. But, Ireland tolerated these intruders as much as she tolerated her brother England. Not once did she surrender to any of the Vikings, and kept in constant battle with them. The fights continued and raged on for many, many years until the Vikings finally gave up and either left, or remained to be assimilated on the island."**

* * *

A soft piano played behind Ireland and she took position in front of the microphone. "_Look into these eyes, Hold onto these hands, Believe in this heartbeat…Though you're afraid, That I might break, Just hold on…_"

England snorted from the side of the stage. "What is she doing, selecting these _soft_ songs? They don't suit her at all!"

"_When I cry…it's for the lonely. When I pray…it's for the lost and stray. When I love like there's no tomorrow. No more words to say. It's for you…_"

Italy noticed someone take the seat beside him once more. "Nii-san, you're back! Again!"

Romano grumbled once more, even as Spain retook his seat behind him. The Spaniard once again looked quite happy. "_Hola_, Veneziano!"

"Where'd you guys go?" Italy asked obliviously.

Spain chuckled to himself as Romano gritted his teeth in fury. "We had a _private conversation_. Nothing you need to worry about."

"Oh, okay." Italy turned back to watch Ireland's performance.

"…hrm…kraut-bastard…" Romano grumbled under his breath.

"You saw Germany backstage?" Italy exclaimed. "How's he doing?"

"Who the fuck cares?" Romano snapped.

"_I_ care! I'll send him a text message right now!" Italy pulled out his cell phone.

"_When shadows haunt you, And darkness crowds your heart…Let the light of my love __**SHINE BRIGHT**_!" Ireland sang out with all her might.

Sealand's pocket hummed once more. He checked his cell phone to see an incoming call, but no number was in the caller-ID. "Hello?" he yelled into the phone, plugging his other ear.

"_Ni får inte hänga upp mig igen, broder. Kan jag tala till Mama?"_

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand a word you're saying!" Sealand shouted into the phone. "You must have the wrong number!"

He snapped his phone shut and shook his head in exasperation. _Is someone prank-calling me? It must that Northern Cyprus jerk!_

"Belgium!" Netherlands hissed at his sister. "How long are you going to ignore me?"

Belgium calmly looked at her fingernails. But, it was quite loud in there, so this could mean one of many things.

Spain grinned evilly at Netherlands. "You have a lost cause there."

Netherlands flipped him off. "_Flikker op_!"

Spain's smiled faded. "What did you say to me?"

"Let it go, moron," Romano snapped over his shoulder. "I have a headache!"

Ireland finished her song with a slight flourish and curtsied gracefully to the audience. America jumped up and cheered. "Woo-HOO, Ireland!"

As Ireland sauntered off-stage, she gave a very smug grin to England. No sooner did she walk past did his cell phone hum. "Seven points?" he read. "I finally give out a score and it's to HER?"

"One point," Finland said surprisingly.

"Zero," Denmark said, his tone full of relief.

"Nothing," Norway said.

"…I as well," Sweden said.

"Two," Estonia read from his phone.

The other countries checked their phones, but they found no scores for Ireland. "…Looks like Ireland won't win this year," America said slowly. He rubbed his forehead with the back of his head. "She's going to be so pissed…"

* * *

England found Ireland sitting on a couch, calmly drinking tea. Even though management wanted to keep scores secret, he'd just found out her score. _Twenty-three points_. She wouldn't be able to win with this score.

But he didn't want to gloat to her…as _tempting _as it was. "Hello," he said uneasily.

Ireland groaned, and set the teacup down in the saucer on her lap. "I was looking to relax for a moment before I joined the others in the audience. Must you always bug me?"

England felt his anger swell. "What have I told you about manners? Don't talk to me like that!"

"Bugger off." Ireland set her unfinished cup of tea down curtly and started to storm off.

"You little—HEY!" England stormed after her. "You rude, ungrateful little _git_! All you've ever done is cause me problems!"

"I could say the same for you!" Ireland snapped over her shoulder.

"Ha! And might I say how shocked I am to see you drinking _tea_! At this time of day, I'd expect you to turn up a pint of _Guinness _and be falling over **drunk**!"

Ireland stopped dead in her tracks and spun around. She glared at him with intense anger, but her body stiffened when murmurs broke out around him. A cold chill overtook England as he realized that they were in front of other people, and that they'd heard their argument.

"…Drunk?"

"Is she—"

"No decency—"

"What do you expect?"

"Ireland, after all."

"—drunk all the time—"

Ireland's face turned as red as her hair, from embarrassment and rage. England gulped audibly. Insults tested his sister's temper constantly, but a bruised pride from false allegations? _Oh, boy…_

"W-Well!" England said, raising his hands and backing up. "I have to go prepare! Yes, lots and lots of preparation!"

He quickly ran off, leaving Ireland surrounded by people who thought she was drunk. A quick glare of death left these people scattering, but that did nothing to improve her mood. "You think you're so _funny_, don't you?" she said quietly. She reached into her pocket and yanked out her phone. "I can be funny, too."

* * *

A small white kitten perched on his head; Greece stuck his head out from the side of the stage. He was dressed in a tight long-sleeved white shirt and baggy white pants. He just saw an audience shot on one of the televisions and had been able to see Japan sitting with a host of other countries. The arena was becoming dark once more, signifying that they were just about ready for him, but he knew where Japan was sitting.

…_There_. He saw the smaller countries engaged in what looked like an uncomfortable conversation with America. Greece smiled brightly at this. _He really came. He came to watch me sing…_

"Hey, BRAT!"

Greece stiffened, and turned around. Turkey was standing there, looking quite haughty. "You're about to sing, right? Make sure you don't CHOKE onstage!"

Greece's brow knitted together and folded his arms over his chest. "I'm not going to lose," he said tersely. "Especially since I have a special guest in the audience for me."

Turkey barked out a laugh and folded his arms over his chest. "_You_ have a special guest? Who would want to be _your_ special guest! Mine is undoubtedly much better!"

"Japan will _always_ be better than any guest you have." Greece stepped towards Turkey, ready for action.

"Wh—JAPAN?" Turkey snapped. He grabbed Greece by his collar. "Japan is MY guest of honor!"

"No, he's not," Greece said firmly. "_I _sent him an invitation."

"No, **I **did! You little—" Turkey shook Greece. "Don't be stealing my guests away! He is _clearly _here to see ME!"

"I sent him an invitation after _my_ semi-final," Greece said hotly. "_Yours_ hadn't even occurred yet! My invitation reached him first, so he's _clearly _here to see me!"

"And _why_ would he want to see your song?" Turkey snapped, though he let Greece go. "You're just singing some stupid song in your stupid language! Does Japan speak Greek?"

Greece said nothing to this, though he continued to glare. It was enough for Turkey. "MY song is in English, which is at least a language he can understand! What sort of impression will _you_ be leaving on him, huh?"

Before Greece could respond, a stagehand hurried over to him. "Greece! We're ready for you!"

Greece said nothing more to Turkey, though he roughly brushed past him to follow the stagehand.

Azerbaijan ran over to Turkey. "What was that? Was he bothering you?"

Turkey shrugged. "The brat just tried to say Japan was here for him."

"Japan?" Azerbaijan's brow furrowed in confusion. "But you're song is so much better! Why would Japan be here for _him_?"

* * *

England was standing next to the curtain. He saw Greece approach. The other country looked visibly upset. "G-Good luck," he stammered.

"Thank you," Greece said shortly, and started towards the stage.

"W-WAIT!" England hollered after him. "The cat! There's a cat on your head!"

Greece didn't seem to hear him.

"Brother."

England shrieked, and spun around. Ireland was standing there, looking surprisingly pleasant. "What do you want?"

"Oh…" Ireland came over to stand beside him, watching Greece take his place on the darkened stage. "I'm just concerned. You're not worried about following Greece, are you?"

"Concerned? You?" England laughed. "Don't be! It will be easy to follow this country!"

Ireland gave him a sideways look. "Are you so sure about that?"

"Of course! We're talking about a country that sleeps through World Conferences! From what I hear, he's slept through earthquakes! His performance will no doubt be void of _any_ energy whatsoever!"

Ireland stared at him for a moment with genuine shock. "…Did you even _watch_ his semi-final performance?"

"I didn't watch _any_ of them," England said confidently. "I don't need to; when I know I'm going to win!"

"That's what you think," Ireland muttered to herself.

* * *

"Greece is next!" America cheered.

"He got the highest score in our semi-final round," Latvia said.

"His song is, like, totally epic," Poland said, suddenly looking enthusiastic.

"Since he sent me an invitation," Japan said. "I will gladly cheer for him."

"That's the only reason you're cheering for him?" America asked.

Japan adverted his eyes very slightly. "Ah, iie. I-I was going to cheer anyways…"

A shout suddenly rose from the stage. "_Ah—__**OPA**_!"

Loud dance music radiated from the stage and full lights came up. Greece was in the center of it all; cat still perched on his head, surrounded by rather attractive male dancers. While he wasn't dancing as energetically as the dancers, energy seemed to emulate from them all. "_Opa! …Opa!_"

"Come on, Liet, let's dance!" Poland shouted, grabbing his friend's hand. "We've been sitting for hours!"

"F-Feliks!" Lithuania cried out as he was yanked out of his seat and into the aisle. "My nose _really_ hurts! I-I can't—"

"You just took your medication! Besides, a broken nose can't impair your dancing!"

"B-But—"

"Hey—Canada!" America shouted, seeing his brother beside him once more. "Where the hell have you been? You've missed, like, half the show!"

"…Maple," Canada groaned, clutching Kumajirou to his chest.

"_Ekapsa to htes (hoo!), nihtes mou palies (hoo!). Thipsala oi anaminseis eginan ki afes_." Greece was singing with surprising intensity, and his expression was equally intense. "_Lipes kai fones (hoo!), adikes efhes (hoo!). Ki afisa se mia gonia anoihtes pliyes._"

England gaped at this performance, horrified. Ireland nudged him in the ribs and smirked. "You were saying?"

"_Vazo mia fotia—HEY! S'ola ta palia—HEY! Ola tha ta allakso (OPA!) Kai tha to fonakso (OPA!) Perasmena ksehasmena ki ola ap tin arhi ksana!_"

Turkey watched this performance with a scowl and arms folded over his chest. Cyprus approached him with a glare and smirk. "Seems like he has some _motivation_, hmm?"

Turkey sighed shortly. "Northern Cyprus."

"Wha—OW!" Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus once again kicked his older brother and quickly ran off, the older nation once again chasing after him.

Greece danced with his dancers and seemed completely enthused in the song. The cat remained perched on his head. "_Ekapsa to htes (hoo!), nihtes mou palies (hoo!). Ki apo to miden arhizo oso ki an den thes!_"

"Wow, this is awesome!" America cheered, clapping his hands in time with the music. "I didn't know Greece had this much energy! Have you ever seen him _this_ energetic, Japan?"

Japan's face turned bright red and he coughed discreetly.

Ireland's phone suddenly buzzed. She looked at the caller-ID and grinned at England. "Well, I must go into the audience. Good luck, brother." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and walked away. As soon as she turned though, she smiled wickedly and began giggling.

England was too busy gaping at Greece's performance to notice.

"_Vazo mia fotia—HEY! S'ola ta palia—HEY! Ola tha ta allakso (OPA!) Kai tha to fonakso (OPA!) Perasmena ksehasmena ki ola ap tin arhi ksana!_"

Greece suddenly gestured towards the audience, and Japan noticeably flinched. Greece then looked at him briefly and _winked _at him! His face turned even darker red and he ducked his head.

"Hey, what's wrong, Japan?" America asked worriedly. "Your face is red! Do you have a fever?"

"_**OPA**__!_" the song finished and cheers emulated the entire arena. Face still red, Japan stood up politely to clap for Greece as the other country bowed to the audience. Somehow, the cat on his head had remained there the whole time.

Phones were humming even before Greece departed the stage.

"…Twelve points," England said in a strained voice. "That's a perfect score."

"Eight points," Germany read from his phone. He craned his head around. "I _will_ find you, Aniki!"

"Seven," Finland said.

"Eight," Norway said.

"Five points," Sweden observed.

"I didn't score him _at all_?" Denmark demanded.

"So, whose taste in music sucks now?" Norway asked blandly.

"Nothing?" Latvia read.

"I, too, didn't score him," Estonia said.

"One point?" Poland read from his phone. "But I liked it!" He looked up and finally saw Canada. "Hey, Canada! You, like, totally stole my seat!"

"…My legs are asleep, Kumakichi," Canada groaned.

"Who are you?" Kumajirou asked him.

"I'm Canada!"

"I didn't score him, either," Lithuania said, looking tired and embarrassed from dancing with Poland in front of everyone. He saw Canada in the seat Poland had been sitting in and sighed. "Let's just move a row back, okay?"

"…Okay." Poland glared at Canada before he moved back.

"Five points!" Spain cheered.

"No one cares," Romano said harshly.

"THREE?" Turkey hollered at his phone. "My judge had the audacity to SCORE HIM?"

Azerbaijan shrugged her shoulders. "My judge gave him nothing, if that helps."

"Perfect score!" Cyprus cheered, running up to Greece. "My judge has returned the favor!"

"Thank you." Greece looked very tired, even for him. "I saw Japan. And he gave me a standing ovation."

"That's great! You did a fantastic job, anyways!"

"Standing ovation, huh?" Turkey fumed.

"Japan's polite to everyone," Azerbaijan said. "He'd give a standing ovation to _any_ country!"

"…That is true." But Turkey still looked upset.

* * *

England brushed off his clothes and straightened his collar. It was time…and he needed complete focus.

_I'm going to win this year_, he told himself. _I will most __**definitely **__win this year!_

America heard a slight commotion coming up the aisle behind them. He turned in his seat to see Ireland coming down the row, followed by a host of other people.

America gaped for a minute, and then jumped to his feet. "Canada!" He cried out. "Look!"

Canada turned in his chair. He was equally shocked as well. "Oh my! Is that _all_ of them?"

"We're ready," the stagehand told England. "Good luck out there."

"Thank you," England said sincerely. He cleared his throat as the stage darkened so he could take his place. They announced him onstage and he gripped his microphone in his hand. After a moment, he quickly walked onto stage.

"WANKER!"

England stopped dead in his tracks at this shout. _What the…_he looked out towards the audience.

And gaped in absolute horror.

_Wales_ was standing in the row where most of the countries were sitting, sticking his tongue out at England and giving him the middle finger. And just behind Wales…

"Let's hurry now!" Ireland called out. "Come, there are plenty of seats! Big brother's about to perform! We mustn't miss it!"

"…Bitch," England breathed quietly, still horrified.

Ireland had the entire former _**British Empire**_ with her.

America was slapping high five with his siblings, and talking excitedly with Australia. New Zealand cuddled a fluffy sheep plush toy in his arms as he took his seat. Both of the Southern Hemisphere countries were wearing Irish cable-knit sweater and bundled up in winter clothes, even though it was technically summer in Norway. Scotland joined Wales in jeering at England. Hong Kong looked stoic. India seemed amused by his surroundings. Cameroon and South Africa were talking about something.

And…cuddled in Ireland's arms was _Northern Ireland_. The little boy happily clung to his sister's shoulders, but then his gaze caught Britain's. With a cute smile, he nonchalantly gave England the middle finger as well.

_Oh, my God…_England could feel his body turn to stone. _What has she done?_

"…Wow," Denmark said, the Nordics observing this spectacle.

"It's my siblings!" Sealand cheered enthusiastically. He waved his hand wildly. "Hi, Hong Kong!"

"How'd she get them here this fast?" Finland asked. "This almost defies logic! Or reality, even!"

"She's England's sister, right?" Norway said. "This is no doubt some work of magic."

"England." One of his backup singers nudged him. "Are you okay?"

"O-Of course I am!" he sputtered out. He squared his shoulders defiantly. _If she thinks this bothers me, or will affect my performance, she's __**sorely**__ mistaken! This gives me more of an incentive to try harder!_

England took his position. The stage lights came up and synthesized music flooded the arena. "_How do I begin to imagine? All the happy faces I'd like to see? The final destination!_"

"There are plenty of happy faces here!" Ireland laughed. All of the countries around her laughed loudly.

"_So I wonder who can I turn to?_" England began to dance onstage, but it looked awkward to the casual viewer. "_Who can make these wishes and dreams come true? And with you there beside me, and loving hands to guide me. Anything is possible to do…_"

"I wonder who he's singing about," Japan said aloud.

"_So it you bring the sunshine…I'll bring the good times. Just add your laughter, it's happy ever after! I don't know about you, but that sounds good to me_!"

America winced. "Is he singing off-key?"

"I…think he's in-tune," Canada said quietly.

"No, I'm pretty sure he went off-key there."

"_I can feel it coming together…All the loving working so very well…_" England smiled as he mingled with his dancers and backup singers. This was going so much better than he thought! "_Nothing left to do now_!"

"BUT PLUG OUR EARS!" Scotland shouted, earning more laughter around him.

England faltered very slightly, but pressed on. "_Gonna see it through now! And we can let the future write itself_!"

"Holy shit, this is embarrassing to watch!" Romano complained, pressing a hand over his face.

Italy, however, was bobbing his head beside him. "_…happy ever after…_" he sang along to himself.

"Crikey, who the hell wrote this song for him?" Australia complained.

"It's, totally, not as bad as Belarus's," Poland said. "This one at least, has, totally a beat to follow."

"…And I'm not covered in dead insects," America added.

England pressed on for the duration of the song, seeming to be engrossed in it. He wasn't even affected by the presence of his former underling, or the lack of enthusiasm from the audience. "_…I don't know about you, but that sounds good to me! …I don't know about you, But! That! Sounds! Good! To! Meeeeeeeee!_"

England finished and bowed gentlemanly. He smiled at the applause he received and turned to depart the stage. _That will show her! Her and her measly twenty-three points!_

"You SUCK!" Wales shrieked from the audience.

England flinched very slightly as he disappeared out of sight.

The scores were sent out once again and countries checked their phones. "Four points," Ireland read from her phone. "Huh. That was nice of me."

Unfortunately for England, Ireland was the _only_ country in this large grouping of countries that scored him. Not even the Nordics scored him.

"Two points," Azerbaijan read from her phone.

"…Three," Georgia said.

"Well, this should be easy for you, Georgia! You're up next, and you have to follow an act like _that_! You're going to rake in _so_ many points!"

"…Thank you."

"Georgia!" Turkey hurried over to him. "You're up next! And then _I'm_ up directly after you! Best of luck to you!"

Georgia smiled. "Thanks. To be honest, I'm glad I'm not _following_ you, Turkey. Your song is incredibly strong this year."

"Of course it is!" Azerbaijan said. "And he's going to do _much _better than Greece! Or even that _jerk_!"

"…So, you still won't refer to him by name?"

"Oh!" Azerbaijan clenched her fists in fury. "Just _thinking _about his name makes me so angry! Why is he even allowed to participate? _He's _never won at this, and he thinks he can _now_?"

"Um…" Georgia looked at Turkey for a moment before he looked back at Azerbaijan. "Neither of us has won either, Azer. Fact is, of the three of us only Turkey has ever won Eurovision."

"It doesn't matter!" Azerbaijan was smiling again. "Your song is so amazing this year, Georgia! There's no doubt you're going to do so well!"

* * *

He waited. It was always an exercise in patience for him, but it was fine. Besides…the one he wanted to talk to was surrounded by rather…_unpleasant_ people. And he certainly didn't any problems to arise now.

"Well, good luck!" Azerbaijan kissed Georgia on the cheek and smiled at him before she walked away. Turkey was kind enough to leave with her, and this left Georgia alone.

Just what he wanted.

He sighed shortly, and approached the other country. He knew Georgia was pressed for time, and _he _certainly didn't want to risk any of those other countries returning. Still, he stopped a few feet away from the other man. "Georgia," he said quietly.

Georgia jumped, and quickly turned around. He regarded the young man standing before him with shock. He knew this person; all too well, to be precise. He knew the shoulder-length dark brown hair, and the intense dark blue eyes. He knew the stiff pose in this body; a trait that had regrettably remained strong with the country. He knew him, but he cleared his throat awkwardly. "This is the first I've seen of you tonight…Armenia."

* * *

"**Both Georgia and Armenia are known for maintaining a long-lasting alliance with each other. They'd had one of the closest relationships in history, and had even been married for a few centuries. Relations between the two, however, were fractured after the end of the Ottoman Empire at the end of World War I, and they went to war over territory. England brokered a peace treaty between the two countries, with neither happy with the results. But ties mended between the two when both were annexed by Russia into the USSR in the 1920s. Today both are on friendly terms and are still relatively close, but their relationship is strained by the friendships they maintain with the other's enemies: Georgia with Azerbaijan and Turkey, and Armenia with Russia."**

* * *

Armenia shrugged. "I'd wanted to wait until you alone before I talked to you. I wanted to make I wished you good luck before you went onstage. So…good luck."

"Thank you," Georgia said sincerely. He brushed a hand through his own hair awkwardly. "But don't be afraid to come up and talk to me. It's really no big deal."

"I'm not afraid," Armenia said flatly. "But I just know better than to come up to you when _other people _are around you."

Georgia flinched. "I don't think that's a fair statement, but I'll let it slide. Thank you for the well-wishes."

"…I'm sorry I brought it up. I don't want to disturb you before you go onstage." Armenia managed a small smile. "You'll do great. I just know it."

Georgia relaxed a little more and smiled back. "Thanks again, Armenia."

* * *

England ignored his siblings as he returned to the audience. "So!" he said to America, smiling brightly. "Did I put on a great show, or what?"

America exchanged looks with Canada and coughed. "…Yes?"

"—_to present is Georgia!"_

"GEORGIA?" America cried out, snapping his head towards the stage. "My _state_ is performing here? Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"The _country _of Georgia, you git!" England sighed, though he suppressed a laugh as he sat back down.

America glared at the country who took the stage and sat down at the waiting piano. "Who does he think he is, naming himself after one of _my_ states? That's an insult!"

"Uh…" Canada looked a little uncomfortable and embarrassed. "He's _older_ than you, America. That means _you_ technically copied off _him_."

"Still! To share the name of one of MY states is…"

"I'm surrounded by retards!" Romano complained. "And now I have an even _bigger_ headache!"

Spain chuckled, and reached up to rub the back of Romano's neck. "I can take you elsewhere if—"

"Stop touching me! And _you're_ the biggest retard of them all!"

* * *

A soft piano came over the intercoms and Georgia's voice carried over the music. "_Who can ever tell the color of a soul? And the memories we keep from long ago_?"

Germany sighed sadly, and sank down to kneel on the floor. He'd been running around searching for Prussia, but his older brother seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth. Or at least fled the arena.

_I'm so going to kick his ass the next time I see him for bailing on me! _He sighed again, and rubbed a hand over his face. _WHY am I stuck with this sort of song? Why does my boss think I will win if I sing it?_

He was miserable; that was certain. Idly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He needed a distraction, even for a moment, from his current problems.

Germany had a few text messages. Most were of scores for other countries, but one was practically blinking at him. _Italy._

He quickly checked this message. _"Doitsu, Doitsu! Nii-san said he saw you backstage—"_ Germany choked at the memory of walking in on Spain and Romano. _"—and it reminded me! I want to wish you good luck! The absolute bestest good luck in the whole, entire world! I just know you're going to do great this year! I have a feeling that you will most definitely win, but even if you don't the important thing is that you have fun, right?"_

Germany read the text message over and over again. Meanwhile, Georgia's song continued to play around him. "_Like the tides gonna turn you will know…when it's cold, you're on your own but you're never alone…Shine! Shine! Like the stars in the sky, Wipe the dust off your love, let it shine…_"

He jumped to his feet and took off running. His resolve was restored. This song was so embarrassing for him to sing, but the point of this was to have fun. And he _could_ have fun singing this song!

_I can do it! I know I can do it!_

"—tell West I'm _not_ here!"

Germany froze in the doorway of his green room. Prussia was standing in there, speaking with Austria and Hungary. His back was thankfully to the door, and Germany coughed loudly. "You aren't, Aniki?"

Prussia screamed, and tried to run. But Germany grabbed him by his collar and dragged him back into the room. "Tell me right now!" he shouted, shaking his older brother. "Are you going to sing in my place or not!"

"West!" Prussia wailed, grabbing his wrists. "Just try to understand! Someone as awesome and _manly_ as me can't sing a song like _Satellite_! It's just NOT ME!"

"…So you _both _refuse to do it," Austria said slowly.

"But you can't forfeit!" Hungary demanded. "Especially not now! Look what forfeiting did for me!"

"_Nein_," Germany said, looking between the three of them. "It is my _duty_ to sing this song, no matter how embarrassing it is! So I _will _do it!"

Prussia looked beyond relieved. "T-That's the spirit, West!"

"But YOU are singing my backup vocals!" Germany snapped.

Prussia's face fell. "W-What?"

"If I have to do this, Aniki, I'm _not_ doing this alone! You're going to go up onstage with me and sing the goddamned chorus with me, and you're going to _like_ it! Understood?"

"That will make for an interesting show," Austria said, straightening his glasses.

"HELL NO!" Prussia yelled, trying and failing to pull away from Germany. "I'm not singing ANY line of ANY chorus for _Satellite_!"

"You're singing the chorus?"

Both Germany and Prussia stiffened violently as their boss hurried into the room. She looked pleased beyond any measure. "This is _wunderbar_! Ludwig will sing the song, and Gilbert will sing backup vocals! That will definitely be a winning combination!"

"Boss!" Prussia hollered. "I _can't_ sing this song! Don't make me do it!"

"_You_ just said you would," his boss snapped. "So you _can't_ back out now!"

The brothers gaped at her in horror as she gleefully left the room. On the nearby television, Georgia continued to play the piano and sing. "_You're on your own but you're never alone! __**SHINE! SHINE!**__ Like the stars in the sky!_"

"So…it's settled?" Hungary asked.

Prussia pushed himself away from Germany. He looked like he was in pain. "Does anyone have a beer? I _can't_ do this sober!"

"Do you think _I _want to?" Despite his enthusiasm, Germany _still_ looked a little nervous. His pocket hummed as Georgia finished his song, and he rechecked his phone. "Oh. We didn't score him…"

* * *

Georgia didn't see Azerbaijan or Turkey around. He drank a huge gulp from his bottled water and sat down heavily on a nearby couch. He was exhausted…but he was proud of his song. A high-soprano, and a _woman_ had originally sung the song, but that didn't bother him. The lyrics had been strong, and the piano had been a nice touch. _I did good…_

"Perfect score."

"Eh?" Georgia looked up to see Armenia approaching him. The other country held up his cell phone as he sat down beside Georgia. "Thank you, Armenia."

Armenia shrugged. "It was a good song. I knew you would do well."

"And you'll do great, too," Georgia said. "Your song is equally strong. I'm certain my judge will give you a high score, too."

Armenia looked towards the ceiling. "I still have a ways to go. I go after Russia—"

Georgia's hand clenched involuntarily around the bottle. "_Please_ do not mention _that_ name around me. Just the sound of it makes me sick to my stomach!"

* * *

"**Russia and Georgia have an ugly history of broken promises and bloody feuds. Most directly the cause of Georgia's hatred for Russia stems from the Treaty of Georgievsk in 1783, when Georgia signed over territory to Russia in return for patronage and defense. Russia in turn sat back and did nothing when Georgia was invaded and conquered by Persia. Until the 20****th**** century Georgia was caught in a tug-of-war between Russia and the Ottoman Empire for control of him, ending with Russia swooping in and annexing Georgia into the USSR for the duration of the Cold War. The 2008 Georgia-Russia crisis seemed as an accumulation of many years of hatred, and now neither country has diplomatic relations with the other."**

* * *

Armenia slowly looked at him. "But—"

"Georgia! I gave you five points!"

Georgia quickly looked up, but he immediately saw Armenia's whole body tense up. "Turkey!" he called out a warning.

Too late. The other country rounded the corner. "Look, look! I gave—"

Turkey stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Armenia and Georgia sitting together. Even with his mask on, it was easy to see the shock in his face. His cell phone slipped out of his hand and clattered to the floor. "…Armenia," he breathed out after a long moment.

Armenia slowly rose to his feet. His whole body was tense now, and there was no mistaking the hatred in his face, and in his eyes. "Turkey," he seethed quietly.

Georgia swallowed thickly, and stood up as well. "G-Guys," he stammered. "Please don't—"

"Georgia!" All three countries jumped at this shout. "I gave you _eight points_!"

"_Shit_!" Georgia cursed, looking between Turkey and Armenia. He grabbed Armenia's arm. "Hurry, you need to go! Before something happens!"

Armenia glared at Georgia. "I'm not going anywhere. I have _every_ right to visit with you!"

"I…"

"Geor—oh, Sadiq!" Azerbaijan rounded the corner and almost ran into Turkey. "Why are you standing—_a yoldaş_!"

Azerbaijan quickly tensed and seethed when she saw Armenia. Armenia in turn looked even more poised and tensed. "YOU! What are _you_ doing here?"

Armenia's glare deepened. "I'm talking with Georgia. I have a right to."

"The HELL you do!" Azerbaijan shouted. She started to advance upon him, but Turkey grabbed her arm and stopped her. "_Haramzadæ_! Thinking you can do whatever you want? Crying like a baby to the rest of the world! Ha! You're hardly a country AT ALL!"

"Azerbaijan, stop it!" Turkey snapped.

* * *

"**Armenia does **_**not **_**get along with Turkey and Azerbaijan, the two countries he is sandwiched between. His history with Turkey is dark and unpleasant, and as with Azerbaijan they both hold grudges over the border wars they'd gotten into at the end of the Ottoman Empire. While under the rule of the Ottoman Empire, Armenia maintained his status as a Christian state, refusing to convert to Islam, and was often the victim of persecution. Turkey in turn has always seen Armenia as a problem, and is annoyed that his previous attempts at brokering a truce with him have gone nowhere. These acts of peace Azerbaijan in turn finds offensive. What hampers Armenia's relationship with Turkey even more is Turkey's stance on the Armenian Genocide of the 20****th**** century; rather, his refusal to acknowledge what had happened was even genocide. To this day things are tense between all three countries, and both Turkey and Azerbaijan have closed their borders to Armenia."**

* * *

"Guys, this is a peaceful event!" Georgia pleaded with them. "Let's take it easy before all of us are disqualified!"

"Azer." Turkey pulled her close and hissed into her ear. "_Bir sahne doğurma. O değer değil diskalifiye edilen varlık_."

Azerbaijan took several deep breaths before she was finally able to calm down. She slowly nodded. "I understand. But!" she jabbed a finger in Armenia's direction. "If you _dare_ cause me any problems, I'll call my army down upon you!"

Armenia folded his arms over his chest in defiance. "Fine. You call _your_ army and I'll call the RED ARMY!"

Georgia hissed at this mention, but it had the desired effect on the other countries present.

"Is there a problem here?" it was one of the producers and he hurried over to them. "We're just about ready for you, Turkey!"

"Thank you," Turkey said sincerely. He tugged on Azerbaijan's arm. "Come with me."

"…All right," she said, glaring at Armenia. She didn't notice the tremor in her voice as he pulled her away.

Armenia relaxed very slightly. "They're both gone. Good."

"…Armenia," Georgia said slowly.

"What is it?"

"I think you need to leave as well."

"What for?"

Georgia gave him a hard look. "Just leave me be, please."

"…All right." He paused before he left. "Good job tonight."

"Thank you." Georgia waited for the other country to leave before he fell heavily back upon the couch. "Red Army…huh?"

* * *

"Hmm?" Russia glanced upwards and craned his neck. "Is someone talking about me?"

The curtain he'd been hiding behind was abruptly whipped aside, revealing Belarus. "Hello, Big Brother. What score did you give me?"

Russia screamed.

* * *

I think my bias showed again. Greece's song by far was my most favorite this year. As for England's…I didn't think it was as bad as Belarus's, but it was universally hated all over Europe, even by the English themselves.

Here's the English translation of Greece's song, which you can find at Eurovision's website:

"OPA!

OPA! OPA!

I burnt the past (hoo!), my previous nights (hoo!)  
Shattered memories as well  
Sorrows and voices (hoo!), unfair wishes (hoo!)  
And I left all open wounds aside

I burnt the past (hoo!), my previous nights (hoo!)  
Dreams and nightmares cast in the fire  
Burning tears (hoo!), lots of lies (hoo!)  
All seem like a silent movie I no longer watch

OPA!  
I set on fire—hey!  
Everything that's old—hey!  
I will change everything – OPA!  
And I'll shout it out loud – OPA!  
Let bygones be bygones, let's start all over again – OPA!

I burnt the past (hoo!), my previous nights (hoo!)  
And I start from scratch, even if you don't want it  
Burning tears (hoo!), lots of lies (hoo!)  
I paid all my dues

OPA!  
I set on fire—hey!  
Everything that's old—hey!  
I will change everything – OPA!  
And I'll shout it out loud – OPA!  
Let bygones be bygones, let's start all over again – OPA!"


	4. Turkey, Iceland, Ukraine, France

Update: The Mad Joker was once again kind enough to properly translate for me several Swedish sentences I had mis-translated initially. Thank you so much for the help!

Chapter 4

Turkey glanced at himself briefly in a nearby mirror and unbuttoned his top collar. He had changed into an all-white outfit, with a white trench coat, white button-down tank top, and white tight pants.

Greece had also worn white, but he didn't care. White looked better on _him_ anyways.

"You're going to do great, Sadiq." Despite their earlier run-in with Armenia, Azerbaijan looked a lot more cheerful now. "You placed first in your semi-final round, and your song is the strongest one this year."

"You're very kind, Azer." Turkey checked himself in the mirror once more before he turned to pat her on the head. "And I know I'm going to do well. Just keep in mind we have to be careful, okay?" Azerbaijan flinched, but he continued. "This is a peaceful event, and he has sympathies worldwide. We can't antagonize him."

"He just _annoys _me!" Azerbaijan fumed, her cheerfulness gone. "Does he think he's the only one who has a dark history? He killed _plenty _of my people during our border wars, and you don't see _me_ crying foul to anyone who will listen! He needs to let it _go_!"

"…Perhaps," Turkey relented. "But that's not our place, Azer. Just avoid him, all right? It's not worth getting disqualified over."

"Fine." Azerbaijan pouted slightly, before she smiled. "But you're one to talk, Sadiq. How long have you been fighting Greece?"

"That _brat _is a nuisance and a menace and deserves _any_ hardships he faces!"

"Turkey." A stagehand approached them. "We're ready whenever you are."

"Thank you." Turkey straightened his collar and smiled at Azerbaijan. "Time to show these younger countries a few tricks, hmm? And…" he chuckled to himself. "Time to show Japan a _real_ performance."

* * *

"Turkey's next," America read from the program, noting that the stage was darkening.

"He placed fourth last year, and I guess he placed first in his semi-final round," England said. "So it looks like he has a good chance."

Japan suddenly felt a presence directly behind him. "Japan."

He tensed and turned in his seat. "H-Hello, Greece-san."

Greece smiled sincerely as he took the seat directly behind Japan. "Thank you for cheering for me. Or, how do you say it?" He thought about it for a moment. "_Arigato gozaimasu_."

"_Dōu itashimashite_." Japan hesitated before he continued. "Turkey-san is next. Y-You both sent me invitations, so I—"

Surprisingly, Greece just smiled. "I understand. It's prudent for you to cheer for us both."

"Hai. But, I cheered for you, Greece-san, because you did such an amazing job."

Greece stared for a moment before he nodded. "_Efxaristo_. I truly mean that."

"_Bonsoir_!"

Everyone jumped at this new voice, and turned towards the aisle. France was standing over Romano, wearing a white, frilly shirt that was partially unbuttoned and black crushed velvet pants with high black boots.

Romano screamed, and jumped a whole row back right into Spain's waiting arms.

France was idly sniffing a rose, not noticing Romano's reaction to his presence. "I go onstage soon. You will all cheer for me, _non_?"

"Why the bloody hell _should_ we?" England demanded. "If you didn't have immunity in Eurovision, you wouldn't even _be_ in the finals!"

"Neither would you," Ireland muttered loudly.

"But since I still have time," France continued, ignoring England's words. "And I'm rather _bored_; I decided I'm going to sit with you all until I go onstage!"

"Um, _mi amigo_?" Spain said courteously, although he _did_ enjoy holding Romano. "W-We're sort of short on seats over here. Although Romano's seat is now vacated—"

"I'm NOT sitting on your lap all night!" Romano snapped.

"But you don't seem to mind when—"

"SHUT UP, SHUT UP!" Romano pulled Spain's cheeks as hard as he could.

"Nonsense, I know the _perfect_ spot!" completely disregarding Romano's now empty seat, France swept into the row and over Italy. He even ignored the seat _Lithuania_ had vacated and he grabbed Canada by his arm and pulled _him_ straight out of the seat!

"M-Maple!" Canada cried out, as France took his seat and pulled back down, straight onto his lap!

"See? I have the _best _seat in the house right now!" France cuddled Canada in his arms. "This brings back pleasant memories!"

"Maple…" Canada groaned, obviously uncomfortable with this predicament.

Exotic rock music began to emulate from the stage, indicating that Turkey's performance was starting. The country himself took center stage, smiling very slightly and moving very subtly to the music. As he got ready to sing, very briefly, he caught sight of Japan. And he saw Greece sitting right behind.

But, he'd lived far too long for such a thing to get to him…too much. Or force him to lose his concentration. "_You could be the one in my dreams. You could be much more than you seem. Anything I wanted in life. Do you understand what I mean?_"

"Is he rapping?" America wondered.

"Shhh!" England hissed. "He's just singing very fast!"

"I wasn't quite expecting this," Japan admitted quietly.

Greece said nothing, but he folded his arm over his chest and frowned.

"_I can see it in your eyes…It doesn't count as a surprise._" Turkey wandered over to the side of the stage facing the large grouping of countries. "_I see you dancing like a star…No matter how different we are_."

He abruptly dropped down to his knees and clenched his left hand in a fist. "_For all this time! I've been loving you._" He pointed out into the audience. "_Don't even know your name! For just one night! We could be the same! No matter what they say!_"

"Was he, like, totally pointing at us?" Poland wondered.

Japan remained rather stiff in his seat. From his perspective, it'd seemed like Turkey had pointed to _him_!

"_I don't think the drama will stop. I don't think they'll give up the rage. But I know the world could be great. I can love you more than they hate._" It was hard to tell with his mask on, or maybe Japan was paranoid. But he could've sworn Turkey looked right at him!

"_For all this time! I've been loving you!_" he pointed back into the audience. "_Don't even know your name!_"

"…I feel," Japan said uneasily. "Like he's singing to me."

"Hmm?" America looked at him. "How come?"

Greece scoffed, and glared murderously at Turkey.

Turkey continued with the rest of his performance without a hitch, though he sank back down to his knees in the middle of the stage. "_For just one night! We could be the same! No matter what they say!_"

He repeated the final line a few extra times, but his free hand reached up for his own face, fingering the mask over his eyes.

Greece sat straight up in his seat. "He's—!"

"_We could be the same! No matter what they say!_"

Turkey pulled his mask off, exposing his whole face to the world.

* * *

"Perfect score, Sadiq!" Azerbaijan cheered as Turkey came backstage. "Taking off your mask at the end was _fantastic_!"

Turkey laughed, though he double-checked to make sure his mask was back in place. "Thank you, Azer."

"My judge gave you five points," Georgia said.

"Oh, that's fine! That's what my judge gave you, too!"

"Six points," Belgium read from her phone.

"_Eight _points!" Netherlands cheered.

"Six points," Estonia read.

"I didn't score him," Latvia observed.

"I, totally, didn't either," Poland said.

"I didn't either," Greece said. He paused for a moment before he said, "_Dóxa to̱ Theó̱._"

"Four points," Lithuania said sheepishly.

"Three!" Spain said all too cheerfully, still cuddling Romano to him.

Romano tried to break free. "Fucking hell, just let me go! _Bastardo_!"

France chuckled loudly. "I gave him a _perfect score_, Canada!"

"T-That's nice." Canada squirmed in _his_ lap. "Can you let me go now?"

"_Mon dieu_! Do you not enjoy the feel of my embrace?"

"N-Not really, no…"

"Is Germany up next?" Italy wondered aloud.

"Let me know when that kraut-bastard goes up!" Romano fumed, trying and failing to break free of Spain. "I'll need to excuse myself to BARF!"

"Nii-san, that's a horrible thing to say!"

"Three points," Finland read from his phone. "Turkey seems pretty popular this year, huh?"

"…Five points," Sweden said.

"_Six_ points," Denmark mocked. "I gave him more than you!"

"Who cares?" Norway said blandly. "Two points."

"So Albania is next, and then Iceland?" Finland asked.

"That's correct," Norway clarified. "He sent me a text message to scold me for calling Greenland and Faroe." He shrugged neutrally. "I figured he's still nervous, so I sent a friendly face back there to cheer him up."

"…Friendly face?"

Sealand was playing with Hanatamago when his pocket hummed once more. He growled in exasperation. "Oh, come on! When will Northern Cyprus stop prank calling me!" he yanked out his phone and answered it. "Just stop it already!"

"_Bror Sealand, snälla, snälla, snälla sluta lägg på luren!"_ the tone on the other line was very pleading now. _"vill bara prata med mamma! Låt mig prata med mamma!"_

"Ugh—"

Sweden suddenly held out his hand to Sealand. "I'll talk to them."

"Good." Sealand handed Sweden the phone. "And tell him to stop prank calling me!"

Sweden set speakerphone on the phone. "Who is this?" he asked calmly.

There was silence for several long moments on the other line. Then, the person spoke. _"…Pappa?"_

Finland twitched, and suddenly launched out of his seat. "ÅLAND!" He grabbed the phone from Sweden and shut off speakerphone. "_Åland, olit—förlåt. Har du försökt nå mig?_"

"Oh, so it was _Åland _that whole time?" Sealand laughed. "So it wasn't a prank caller after all! That's pretty funny!"

* * *

"**Åland is a small island with a population size of 13,000 people, located in the Baltic Sea between Sweden and Finland. Though she is officially a territory of Finland, the only language spoken in Åland is Swedish.**

…**Need I say more?"**

* * *

Sweden gave Sealand a hard look. "You kept hanging up on your sister?"

"I have lots of siblings!" Sealand said defensively. "Besides, she wasn't speaking English! How am I supposed to understand Swedish?"

"_I _speak Swedish."

Sealand gulped audibly. "T-That you do!"

Sweden leaned closer to Sealand. "Perhaps you need to learn," he began. "My language."

"Awwww!" Sealand groaned. "Must I? Or at least make Ålandlearn English? Why must _I _have to be the one to adjust?"

"_Du har inte röstat än?_" Finland continued his conversation with Åland in Swedish. "_Det är okej. Vad? Nej, jag kom inte med i finalen. Nej, intepappa—Su-san heller__._" Finland's whole face turned red with that.

Denmark barked out a laugh. "Did you just call Sweden _papa_? That's too funny! Sweden's running amuck of _children_!"

"I could say the same of you," Norway said flatly.

* * *

"_You are the one. You give me that something I need. It is me, and I'm calling_…"

Albania's song played over the intercoms backstage, but Iceland wasn't paying attention. He brushed off his clothes and sighed. He was wearing a simple outfit, a long-sleeved white shirt under a slate gray vest and matching pants. _This is fine. It doesn't matter if you don't win. Just go out there, and…do something._

He felt marginally better after scolding Norway via text message for making him more nervous. Sometimes, he really had to question his older brother's methods.

Although, he _wouldn't_ call him 'older brother'. Not to his face, at least.

"_Ágætur_, Mr. Puffin," Iceland said aloud, glancing at his puffin companion. "It's almost time."

Mr. Puffin flapped his wings.

Iceland sighed again, and spun around. "I just need to—WAUGH!"

He stumbled backwards, and tumbled to the floor in front of the floating green TROLL in front of him. "_H-_ _Hver í fjandanum_?"

The troll grinned toothily at him. "_**Jeg har hørt at du er nervøse. ikke være. Alt vil være alle rett.**_"

Iceland groaned, and rubbed a hand over his face. _Norway! What are you doing?_

"_**Jeg vil omfavne du nå**_." The troll happily floated over to him.

"W-WAIT!" Iceland cried out as he was picked up off the floor. "I don't need a hug! I DON'T NEEED A HUG!"

* * *

"Su-san, Åland wants to talk to you," Finland said.

"Wait, you guys are using up my minutes!" Sealand complained loudly.

Sweden ignored him and took the phone from Finland. "_Hej Åland. Uppför du dig väl_?"

"I swear I'll learn Swedish if you _please_ stop raking up my phone bill!" Sealand pleaded.

Albania was finished with his performance, but the stagehands were starting to get frantic. "Where is Iceland?" one demanded. "He's about to go on!"

"Here I am." Iceland quickly hurried over to them. "I-I'm sorry for keeping you waiting."

"Wait, what happened to you?" another cried out. "You're a mess!"

Iceland's silver hair was completely disheveled, and his vest was cockeyed. He shrugged stiffly. "I got molested by a troll."

The stagehands gaped at him in horror as he headed towards the stage, not seeming to care about his appearance. "H-He…"

"Nerves," another interjected. "He's just nervous. Nothing else."

Speaking of this troll, he calmly materialized beside Norway. "_**Han er god nå. Jeg gjorde ham føler seg bedre.**_"

"Thank you," Norway said sincerely. The troll disappeared as the stage darkened once more and a stiff figure stormed across it. "I'm glad I was able to make him feel better."

"You're his _onii-chan_, after all," Denmark giggled. "It's your _job_ to look out for him. And it's my job for _you_—"

Norway calmly reached over to choke him with his own tie. "What was that?"

"Guhhh! Norge, you c-c-choking me!"

"Guys, let's settle down!" Finland pleaded.

Norway abruptly let Denmark go when a piano beat came from the stage. Denmark straightened his tie and glared mournfully at Norway. "How can you act so uptight with me now after confessing your feelings for me?"

Norway stared at him blankly. "What?"

The piano was followed by techno dance music and the stage lights came up, revealing Iceland, who quite frankly looked like hell. But, he didn't look like he cared.

"_I…am standing strong. I've overcome the sadness…in my life._"

"What happened to him?" Finland asked worriedly. "W-Was he attacked backstage?"

"Maybe by a _troll_," Denmark remarked.

Norway punched him hard in the arm. "_Være stille_."

"_And it's reflecting in your eyes…Je ne sais quoi_," Iceland sang out. He sounded more enthusiastic than he looked. "_I know you have a special something! Je ne sais quoi! Ah-oh! Something I just can't explain_!"

"Those are _French_ words!" France praised from the audience. "_C'est magnifique!_"

"Just watch, he won't get a high score," England mused.

"_When…the clouds are gone, the stars come out around us…shining_." Iceland wasn't looking at his fellow Nordics, keeping his focus on other parts of the arena. "_And all that we see is the love…our hearts aligned together. Tell me, do you feel the same_?"

"He sounds pretty strongly," Finland observed. "I wonder if he's singing about anyone in particular."

"Awwww, is Ice in _love_?" Denmark cooed. "We _have_ to find out!"

"I don't think he would tell us," Sweden said.

"…He might tell_ me_," Norway said.

"…_And when I see your face, I wanna follow my emotions! Je ne sais quoi—pourquoi!_" Iceland ran a hand through his already messy hair awkwardly. "_I just love this crazy feeling! It's like I've known you all my life!_"

"So it's someone he's known his whole life," Denmark said, following the lyrics. He looked between Norway and Finland. "It's not _us_, is it? That would be dirty…and _wrong_!"

"…You're an idiot," Norway sighed.

Iceland finished his cheer to abundant cheers. He bowed stiffly and hurried off the stage. Scores were sent out right away. "Aww, three points?" Denmark whined. "What is my judge _thinking_?"

"Five points," Finland said.

Sweden checked his phone. "I didn't score him. _Vi ses sénare_, Åland." He shut off Sealand's phone and handed it back to him.

Sealand looked at his phone and glared at Sweden. "_You're _paying the bill when it arrives! I can't afford calls like _that_!"

"I could've gone for longer," Sweden said. "But now you've promised to learn my language…"

Norway checked his phone for the score he gave Iceland. "…Six." He snapped the phone shut and shoved it into his pocket.

"Wow, our judges are not being kind to fellow Nordics, are they?" Denmark observed. He quickly backtracked. "N-Not that I would give _you_ a low score, Norge—"

"I already know you gave me five points," Norway said flatly. He craned his head towards the side of the stage to see if he could see Iceland.

"Wait, WHAT?" Denmark cried out. "How'd you know that? Is _that_ why you're pissed off at me?"

"When is he _not_ pissed off at you?" Sweden muttered to himself.

A body abruptly fell into the empty seat beside Norway. "_**Jeg har ført lite bror over til deg**_."

A few people nearby recoiled at the sight of the green troll, who was rumpling Iceland's messy hair rather affectionately. "Thank you," Norway said, managing a minuet smile.

"_**Bli nice til storebror nå!**_" the troll disappeared.

Iceland calmly brushed himself off, and tried to fix his hair. "I was coming right over. _Why_ did you sic the troll on me?"

"Oh, I didn't," Norway said. "But he's fond of you, so sometimes he'll do things on his own."

"And you _let him_?"

Norway shrugged. "He hasn't hurt you, right?"

The troll abruptly reappeared, startling Iceland as he deposited Mr. Puffin in his lap. "_**Jeg nesten glömde eders kjæledyret. Her han er.**_"

"_T-Takk_." Iceland hugged Mr. Puffin to his chest self-consciously.

"So, Ice!" Denmark giggled, leaning across Norway to look at the younger country. "Who's the lucky girl? Or _fellow_?"

"W-What?" Iceland shouted, jumping straight out of his seat. "Where did you get THAT idea?"

"I gave him eight points," Belgium said.

"Four," Estonia said.

"Three," Greece said.

"I gave him five," France read around Canada. He nodded. "That sound appropriate."

Canada's pocket began to hum and he jumped slightly. "What? Did I somehow score him?" He pulled out his cell phone and checked his text messages.

**Prussia (Mobile)**

"_HELP! __**MEIN GOTT**__, PLEASE HELP ME! …and get me beer if you can!"_

Canada gaped at this text message for a long moment before he began to struggle in France's arms. "Please, let me go!"

"Awwww, does Matthew have a sore tummy?" France cooed, rubbing his stomach.

"No, not that! I have an emergency!"

"But Ukraine is about to go onstage!" America protested. "You're going to miss her performance!"

"_Ukraine_ is next?" France shouted. He jumped to his feet, the action sending Canada tumbling to the floor. "_Merde_! _I _go after her! I have to get backstage!"

"Good luck," England said sarcastically. "See how far your frog-language gets! See, Iceland _didn't_ get a high score this year, just like I said!"

France didn't hear him, continuing to run up the aisle towards the backstage area.

"I-I must go too," Canada stammered, picking himself off the floor and hurrying off.

"Dibs!" Poland shouted, hopping over the seat to reclaim Canada's seat.

Lithuania sighed heavily, but also climbed over the row to sit beside Poland.

"Now that the frog-bastard is gone, _I'm _moving up!" Romano growled. He applied a little more force in pulling himself out of Spain's arms and hopping up into his seat.

Spain calmly brushed himself off and smiled to himself. _It's all right. I know how he feels now…_

* * *

Ukraine looked at herself self-consciously in the mirror. Behind her, her boss was helping to fix the skirt of her dress. "S-Sir?" she said.

"What is it?" he tugged her skirt down to make sure it wasn't riding up over her butt.

"I-Isn't this outfit a little…much?"

"Don't you like the dress? The color suits you, too."

"Sure. But…"

She was wearing a dress that was a pretty violet-blue shade. But…it was _tight_. Very, very tight and short. The skirt barely covered her butt in the back, and the body of the dress highlighted all of her curves. Strangely though, the top of her dress felt very loose. Her large breasts felt like they had very little support, and almost two inches of cleavage was showing.

"I don't think this dress suits me," she said, patting herself down.

"What? Nonsense! This is the _perfect _out for you!" her boss stood up and spun her around. "You're going to do just fine out there. You have a powerful song on your side, and you're favored a lot by other countries!" he smiled at her. "Don't even think about the audience. Just go out there and sing."

Ukraine reluctantly nodded and forced a smile. "…All right."

But, despite her boss's words she felt incredibly self-conscious the moment she left her green room. She meekly walked through the wings towards the stage, and it felt like everyone was staring at her. _I must look very awful in my dress…_

"Big Sister."

Ukraine jumped, and turned around. She double-checked to make sure her boss wasn't watching. "H-Hello, Russia."

Russia was staring at her with open surprise. "…Er, why are you wearing this outfit?"

Ukraine's whole face turned red and she ducked her head. "It doesn't look good on me, does it?"

"N-No, that's not necessarily what I meant."

"Ukraine!" a stagehand ran over to her. "There you are! We…" the boy trailed off as he openly gaped at her cleavage.

"You're ready?" Russia asked dangerously.

"Y-Yes!" the stagehand snapped out of his stupor and motioned to Ukraine. "W-We're ready for you!"

Ukraine nervously nodded. "_D-Dakoyu_." She forced a smile at Russia. "Please cheer for me."

"I will," Russia promised kindly, though he directed a dark aura at the stagehand. "And, I'm certain my judge will give you a high score."

Russia watched his sister leave and sighed quietly to himself. "The one sister who isn't crazy and she cannot be around me…"

"Big Brother!"

Russia stiffened as Belarus hugged him from behind. "Let's watch Big Sister's performance together!"

Russia's face twisted up in pain. "O-Okay…"

* * *

The stage darkened once more as Ukraine took her place center stage. She was so nervous she was shaking. She swallowed thickly and closed her eyes. _Just focus on the song, and on the lyrics. Nobody will pay attention to your outfit…_

"Miss Ukraine is about to perform," Lithuania observed.

Poland scoffed. "She's like, totally the only _normal_ one of them. But that's not saying much."

"She can't do worse than Belarus!" America laughed.

The guitar started behind Ukraine, and that was her cue. "_Oh…sweet people…_" her voice was still shaking! She forced it steady before she continued. "_What have we done? Tell me, what is happening? For all that we've built, tumbles and is gone_."

The stage lights abruptly came up, startling Ukraine slightly but she pressed on. "_Oh… sweet people…How you no love for mankind_?"

"…Wow," Romano said after a moment. "I like her outfit!"

"I think her panties are visible!" Denmark blurted out.

Norway clamped a hand hard over his mouth. "Shut up, just for once!"

Ukraine didn't hear these comments. She was becoming too involved in the song. She swayed her body slightly. "_Must you go on killing…just to (__**ba-dum!**__) pass the time_."

She jerked her arm abruptly. "_The mes—(__**ba dum!**__) is so true! The end is rea—(**ba **__**dam!**__) near_!"

"Is something wrong with her microphone?" Estonia asked. "I'm hearing a strange echo."

"Me, too," Japan said.

"…_It steals the things so dear_." Ukraine suddenly flung herself forward, falling to her knees on the stage. "_Yes, the (__**BA-DUM!**__)—age is so re—(__**BA DUM!**__)! Don't turn al—(__**BA DUM!**__) to stone_!" completely enraptured in the performance, she flung her arm wildly. _"Because, bec—(__**BA-DUM!**__)—use! This is your—(__**BA DUM!**__)_!"

"Her boobie-bounce!" Latvia cried out. His whole face turned red when everyone looked at him. "It's her boobie-bounce! It's overshadowing her singing!"

"_Oh…sweet people…_" Ukraine was standing again, and she struck a hand against her large breasts. "_Wha—(__**BA DUM!**__) our children?_"

"Hey, it _is_ her boobie-bounce!" America exclaimed. "Any time she moves too much, we can't hear the lyrics!"

Romano snorted. "Who's paying attention to the lyrics, anyways?"

Spain chuckled lightly behind him. "Be careful what you say, Romano. I can be a _jealous_ man…"

"Shut up!"

* * *

"_Oh…sweet pe—(__**BA DUM!**__)! What sense—(__**BA DUM!**__)!"_

Canada found Prussia huddled in a corner in the wings, crying his eyes out. Five bottles surrounded him, and Canada read the table off of one. "Uerige Doppelsticke?" he winced and set the bottle back down. _Oh, boy…_

"Prussia?" Canada knelt down in front of the hysterical country. "What's the matter?"

Prussia lifted his head. His face was a mess of tears and snot, and his red eyes were completely bloodshot. No doubt from the alcohol and the crying. "Canada! It's so _awful_!"

"Did something terrible happen?" Canada asked meekly. "You drank so much…and before Germany has to go onstage!"

"_I'm_ going onstage with him! And we're singing THIS song!" Prussia pulled his iPod out of his pocket and handed it to Canada. He then resumed crying loudly.

Canada looked at the song in the playlist. "_Satellite_?" He put on the headphones and pressed play.

After a minute, he hit 'pause' and removed the headphones. "It's…not too bad."

"_Not too bad_? We have to sing that song in front of the whole world! West and ME! Me, in all my awesome glory!" Prussia got ready for another round of loud wailing.

"C-Come on, don't cry…" Canada looked down at Mr. Kumajirou in his arms. "Mr. Kumafuji, how do you think we can make him feel better?"

Mr. Kumajirou looked up at him. "Who are you?"

"I'm Canada!" Canada groaned as a headache settled in. "Prussia, please don't cry. I…" He patted himself down until he found a bulk in his coat pocket. "Ah-ha! Here, have this!" He pulled a small bag of cookies out of his pocket and held them out to Prussia. "Have these cookies! They're in the shape of my maple leaf, and they're filled with maple syrup!"

Prussia immediately perked up at this, and abruptly stopped crying. "Maple syrup?" He took the bag and opened it. His face was still a mess, and he swayed slightly where he sat, indicating he was heavily intoxicated. He reached into the bag and pulled out a cookie shaped like a maple leaf, just like Canada said they would be. He took a bite out of it and his face lit up. "Hey, that's _good_! And I can taste the maple syrup! Can I really have this whole bag?"

"Sure, absolutely," Canada said, smiling slightly.

"ANIKI!"

Both countries jumped at Germany's shout. He stormed over to them, looking positively furious. "We have to rehearse for our song! How _dare_ you run off, and—ARE YOU DRUNK?"

"Not dunk enough, but…getting there," Prussia said, managing a sad giggle.

Germany snatched one of the empty bottles from the floor, and read the label. His face darkened as he put the bottle down and grabbed Prussia by his collar. "How dare you! How could you run off and get drunk…and not SHARE WITH ME? Do you think _I _want to do this sober?"

"West, don't shake me!" Prussia complained loudly. "You'll make me puke!"

"G-Guys," Canada stammered, rising to his fight. "Please don't fight—"

"Is there anything left, or did you drink it all?" Germany barked, ignoring Canada (but what else was new?). He dropped Prussia and looked at the bottles. "Wait, this one?" One of the bottles was indeed a quarter full. "It's not enough, but maybe a slight buzz will help me…" he proceeded to down the bottle.

"Good luck," Prussia said sourly. "I _backwashed _into all of my beer."

"**PFFFFT!**" Germany upchucked the beer, and began coughing and gagging violently. "Guh…_Ficken! Sie Sack! _Aaaaaugh, _Scheiße_!"

"Serves you right." Prussia munched on more cookies.

Germany grabbed Prussia by the collar once more. "You'll pay for this, Aniki…" as he turned, then he saw Canada. "Ah. Hi, Canada."

"H-Hi," Canada squeaked.

Germany dragged Prussia off, ignoring his older brother's protests.

Canada stood there alone for a moment with Mr. Kumajirou, the finale of Ukraine's song playing over the intercoms. "_Th—(__**BA DUM! BA DUM!**__) your home! This…is (__**BA DUM!**__)…"_

"Mr. Kumakuma!" Canada shouted cheerfully. "Germany _saw_ me! He saw me and he said hi! I was _noticed_!"

"Who are you?" Mr. Kumajirou asked again.

"I'm _Canada_!"

* * *

Ukraine received many cheers for her song. Laughing, she curtsied as much as possible before she left the stage. _They liked my song! I'm so happy!_

"I couldn't understand the song," Japan complained quietly. "Her…_assets_." He winced at the lack of better term. "Were too distracting!"

"Who _wasn't _distracted?" Romano laughed.

"I gave her seven points," Latvia read from his phone.

"I didn't score her," Estonia said.

"Seven, as well," Lithuania said.

"Three," Poland said.

"Five," England said.

"See, now it's _easy_ for you to hand out scores!" America laughed.

"For the last time, _I'm_ not the one scoring the show!"

"Wow, _none_ of us scored her?" Denmark asked. He laughed. "That's kind of funny!"

Sealand had his nose buried into a book, _Swedish for Dummies_. "'How is your day?' '_…Hur ser din dag ut?_' 'Would you like a cup of tea?' '_…Vill du ha en kopp te?_'"

"Don't overdo it," Finland reassured him. "Learning a second language is hard work!"

"But _you_ speak Swedish just fine, Finland!"

"Well…" Finland winced slightly. "I_ did_ use to be part of Sweden's territory, but—"

"You are still my wife," Sweden said abruptly.

"N-Now, Su-san—"

"So, who are you in love with?" Norway asked Iceland bluntly.

Iceland's whole face turned red. "W-What? I'm not in love! Where did you get that idea?"

Norway leaned a little closer to him, his face still very deadpan. "You can tell _Onii-chan_."

"And me!" Denmark interjected. "As your former king, you can tell me _any_ secret!"

"The hell you can!" Iceland blurted out. He hugged Mr. Puffin tighter to him. "And even if I _was_ in love, I wouldn't tell you!"

Denmark's face fell, and he looked at Norway. "_Min Gud_…so it IS true…"

"What is?" Norway and Iceland asked him together.

"He IS in love with one of us!" Denmark 'eeped' and leaned back a little. "Oh, Ice! I didn't realize you were so _perverted_!"

"_NEI_!" Iceland shrieked, startling a few people nearby. "_Nei nei nei __**NEI**__! _That's so disgusting! How could you even _think_ of such a thing?"

"Wait a minute," Finland interjected suddenly. "Why is it perverted for _him_ to like one of us, and yet it's perfectly _normal_ for Su-san to call me his _wife_, and for you too—" he motioned to Norway and Denmark. "To have whatever it is that you have?"

"We have _nothing_," Norway said flatly.

"It's different for us," Denmark said, as if he didn't hear what Norway had said.

"And you _are_ my wife," Sweden insisted.

Finland sighed. "All right, all right…"

Iceland groaned and looked down at his feet. "I'm so _happy_ I have my own house now…"

"'I think I broke my nose'," Sealand recited, giggling uncontrollably. "'_Jag tror jag bröt näsan._'"

* * *

"Big Sister, I gave you seven points!" Russia revealed, smiling slightly.

Ukraine saw her boss coming and forced a smile. "_D-Dakoyu_, Russia."

"_Sister_." Both siblings jumped when Belarus forcibly inserted herself in between the two of them. "I gave you _ten points_."

Ukraine felt rather shocked by the high score Belarus gave her in comparison to what Russia gave. Usually, the opposite happened. "_Dakoyu_, Bela—"

"_Vy_!" All three Slavic siblings jumped when Ukraine's boss ran over to them. "Ukraine, must I remind you we have no association with _them_?" he hissed into Ukraine's ear.

"Tell me," Russia said suddenly. "Were you the one who put that dress on my sister?" though he was smiling, a terrible aura surrounded him.

"You don't scare me!" Ukraine's boss barked. "And if you cause me problems, I have the _European Union_ on my side! Come, let's go Ukraine!"

"_Vybachteh_," Ukraine said to her younger siblings, her tone almost mournful as her boss pulled her away.

Russia watched them go, and sighed sadly. He was hardly afraid of a political figurehead, but the last thing he needed was to have the European Union whining at him. "Surely there must be an easier way to be with my sister…"

"Forget her." Belarus quickly reattached herself to Russia's arm. "_I'm _here, and that's all you'll need."

Russia closed his eyes and forced himself not lose his temper or panic. _How much longer until __**I **__can perform? I can't take much more of this!_

* * *

"Francis is about to perform," Spain said, though he winced when Romano visibly stiffened. "Now, now, I don't think he'll act too crazy this year."

"How was his semi-final performance?" Japan asked.

"We, like, totally didn't get to see it," Poland said dryly. "He's one of the Big Four, after all."

"I keep hearing this Big Four be mentioned, but I don't know what it is!" America said.

England sighed, as though he were impatient. "The Big Four are the four countries who have contributed the most to Eurovision financially. Myself, Spain." Spain gave a slight salute to this. "Germany, and…_France_. A lot of times Eurovision wouldn't have been able to happen without our money, so about ten years ago they decided to treat us."

"_We _use to give a lot of money, too," Romano fumed. "But _we _never gained any status!"

"What this means is," Ireland interjected. "Is that before _all_ of the countries had to go through the semi-final round for qualifications. The only country who had immunity was the returning champion. But, with this _Big Four_ status, the _git_." She motioned to England. "And those other three countries are automatically entered into the finals. So they don't have to go through the semi-finals at all, and the first time we see them perform the songs is in the final."

"…I _really_ don't appreciate your analogies," England seethed. "But that _is_ the basic idea of it."

"I don't think it's really cheating," Spain said. "Because, like, we enter the finals with zero points, _no_? While the other countries already have points from the semi-finals. Besides, none of us Big Four have won since they introduced the idea. I know _I _haven't won since 1969, and that was in a tie with three other countries!"

"That was a funny year!" Netherlands laughed loudly. "Our bosses were so pissed off!"

"Wait, did you two just agree on something?" Belgium asked.

"You're talking to me now!" Netherlands cheered.

"Funny that," Romano said, looking at Spain over his shoulder. "You haven't won since _1969_? And you had to _share_ the victory? _We_ haven't been able to enter for a few years because of _idiota_ here—" he jabbed a finger at Italy. "And yet we've won more recently than you!"

Spain didn't get upset or cry. He simply smiled and reached over to affectionately pinch Romano's cheek. "_Pero_, we share the same number of victories, _Lovino_."

Romano smacked his hand away. "You—"

"Excuse me."

Both of them jumped and turned to see Canada standing there, the other country completely out of breath. "I-I'm sorry I left so suddenly. Did I miss France's performance?"

"_No_, you're just in time!" Spain said cheerfully. "He's about to go onstage!"

"Good. I…" Canada trailed off when he saw Poland in his seat. "Uh…"

Poland saw Canada over his shoulder and forced a smile. "Sorry, Canada. But I, like, totally called dibs."

"_Atsiprašau_," Lithuania said a lot more sincerely.

"Here, there's plenty of seats in _this_ row!" Spain offered.

"So, where'd you go?" America asked, though he barely looked at his brother.

"P-Prussia sent me a text message."

"Ah, Gilbert?" Spain asked, as Romano lurched in the seat ahead of him. "How is he?"

"He's…under the weather." Canada sat down in a seat.

"That's too bad. Oh, look they're starting!"

The stage darkened once more, and they saw shadows of people moving across the stage. "Let's see that the idiot has for us this year," England grumbled.

"Yay, France-nii-san!" Italy cheered.

"Don't cheer for that pervert!" Romano snapped.

Loud dance music pulsated from the stage and the lights came up, revealing France dancing with a few dancers. "_Oh la belle assemblée, qui a envie de bouger! Pour se laisser allez, au rythme de l'année! Allez Allez Allez Allez!_"

France was dancing rather crazily with his backup dancers, punctuated by a couple of pelvic thrusts. One of his backup singers, a woman, sauntered over to him. "_Chouchou faut te lever et bouger ton fess_—" she was cut-off rather abruptly when he grabbed her and started gyrating against her.

"Well, this is _lovely_," England said sarcastically.

"_Allez Allez Allez! Allez Olla Olé! Allez Allez Allez! O-lla O-lé_!" France sang out, though he was starting to sound out of breath from the dancing. But it didn't stop his body-shaking or air thrusts. "_Allez Allez Allez! Allez Olla Olé! Allez Allez Allez! C'est le son de l'année!_"

"This song is so…_France_," America said after a moments.

France spun around so that his back was to the audience. The next twenty seconds were filled not with singing, but rolling hips. Rolling hips which caused France's ass to shake to the rhythm, along with his backup dancers.

"This is _disgusting_!" Romano yelled, gagging slightly.

"Yet something he wouldn't hesitate to do," England added dryly.

Spain was laughing, though. "All right, Francis!"

"_Il faut danser, tout le monde, danser, tout le monde, danser collé serré! Tout le monde, danbadam badamdam..._" the butt-shaking ceased for the moment, but the dancing was still intense.

"By God, there are other words other than _allez_ in this crappy song?" England blurted out.

"It's, like, totally awesome!" Poland said, moving slightly in his seat. "I could totally dance to this in a night club! Right, Liet?"

"…I guess so," Lithuania said painfully.

France suddenly began egging on the audience, telling them to raise their hands and then clap them. A lot of the audience did this, including Italy. But Romano smacked him upside the head.

All of a sudden, France yelled and the beat of the song changed to a loud, rhythmic pulse. The dancers behind him began to dance very fast and stomp in time with the music.

France, however…he was rolling his hips, but was suddenly running a hand up and down his partially exposed torso. Suddenly, he gripped his shirt and ripped it open, revealing his chest.

"_WAS_?" Switzerland shouted. He slapped his hand over Liechtenstein's eyes.

The women in the audience shrieked with glee as France twirled his shirt over his head and threw it at a random female in the audience, who promptly fainted. He joined the other dancers beat-for-beat, but was suspiciously fingering the top of his pants.

The color drained from England's face. "Oh no…please no…"

"What is it?" Japan asked.

"It almost seems like he…" Latvia trailed off.

France stopped dancing, and ripped his pants off, stripper-style. The audience shrieked once more as the country of romance himself stood three-quarters naked on the stage, clothed only in high-boots and black underwear.

Spain shrieked in laughter, and nearly fell out of his seat. America was equally stitched up over this. Everyone else was less than enthused as France twirled his pants over his head and threw them.

In _their _direction!

England screamed, and ducked into his seat. But seeing as it was _clothes_, and not like a grenade, the pants didn't fly far and barely missed the Nordics.

"This is almost…pornographic," Japan said slowly.

"It's France, what do you expect?" Netherlands asked.

France spun around to do some more ass-shaking at the audience, and the countries recoiled. France wasn't wearing simple underwear. He was wearing a _g-string_, and his perfectly-shaped butt cheeks were exposed to them all, and jiggled in time with the motions of his swaying hips.

"I don't think this is appropriate," Finland said, looking at Sealand.

Sealand, thankfully, was buried into his book. He _did_ glance up briefly and saw France's naked ass, but that hardly fazed him. "What? You're acting like I haven't seen a butt before!"

"Oh God, I've seen that white ass far too many times!" England wailed, hiding his face in his hands.

"_Why _have you seen his white ass too many times?" America asked him.

"I'm _blind_!" Romano cried out, tearing at his eyes. "I've gone blind!"

"Nii-san, don't be blind!" Italy wailed.

"He's, like, totally being a drama queen," Poland pointed out.

Thankfully for the disgusted countries, France finished his performance without actually getting completely naked. The audience was in love; they cheered and screamed, even after the performers left the stage.

"Seven," Denmark read, his tone slightly disgusted. "It was funny until his pants almost hit me in the head…"

"It was still funny to me," Norway said, checking his phone. "Four points."

"Six," Iceland read.

"E-Eight?" Finland read from his phone.

"Nothing," Sweden read flatly.

"I only gave him _two points_?" Spain cried out.

"Eight," Greece read.

"One," Estonia said.

"I didn't score him," Poland said.

"N-Neither did I," Lithuania squeaked.

"NO!" England shouted, jumping to his feet as he stared in horror at his phone. "There is no justice in this world!"

"What the hell are you whining about?" Ireland asked.

"I gave that _frog-face_ two points! TWO!"

"Wow, so low?" America teased.

"I shouldn't have given him ANYTHING! He gave _me_ nothing, I'm certain!"

"Well, this is turning out to be fun," Australia said. "A girl with giants boobs performed and we got an amusing striptease!"

New Zealand cuddled his sheep to him. "Since it was France, it's hardly amusing…"

"Well, imagine _England_ doing the striptease!"

All the former British colonies gagged violently, including Hong Kong. England jumped up and glared at them. "Get out of here if the thought makes you sick! I don't have to sit here and take this _abuse_!"

"Way to call the kettle black," South Africa said snidely.

England gaped at him for a moment before sitting back down. "Never mind. I don't care anymore…"

* * *

It will very soon be the moment you've all been waiting for! That's right; **Germany** takes the stage in the next chapter!

I don't know why I tortured Iceland so much in this chapter. I'm so fond of his brotherly relationship with Norway, that I suppose I got a little carried away.

And yes, there were four winners in 1969: Spain, Netherlands, England, and France. Back then a perfect score was eighteen points, and all four countries got eighteen. Of course, eighteen is now an incredibly pitiful score in Eurovision, but I thought it was a fun fact, given that it _is _the last time Spain won. (poor Antonio)

Here's the English translation for France's song, as can be found at Eurovision's website:

"Everybody!

Ola, beautiful people who want to move  
Surrender to the rhythm of the year  
Go go go, you should take the advantage  
It is a good day and we will celebrate it

Darling, you must get up and move your butt  
Dancing, squeezed tight for a salty kiss  
Take me by the hand, make me weak  
Lala, it will heat up, I feel the stuff up

Come on, come on, come on, come on ole ola  
Come on, come on, come on ole ola  
Come on, come on, come on, come on ole ola  
Come on, come on, come on, it's the sound of the year

Come on, come on, come on, come on  
You've got to dance (everybody), dance (everybody)  
Dancing, squeezed tight

Everybody dambadam badabadam badambadam badam  
It's the sound of the year, dambadam badabadam badambadam badam dam  
Everybody dambadam badabadam badambadam Badam  
Gotta let go, dambadam badabadam badambadam Badam  
(That's it, man) the rhythm of the year

Come on, come on, come on, come on ole ola  
Come on, come on, come on ole ola  
Come on, come on, come on, come on ole ola  
Come on, come on, come on, it's the sound of the year

Hop, hop, hop  
Hop, hop, hop

Everybody!

Whoo, whoo, humm  
Come on (come on), come on (come on), you gotta dance  
Everybody, everybody, oh …

Dambadam badabadam badambadam badam dam  
Everybody dambadam badabadam badambadam badam dam  
Everybody dambadam badabadam badambadam badam dam  
Everybody dambadam badabadam badambadam badam  
Everybody dambadam badabadam badambadam badam

Come on, come on, come on, come on ole ola  
Come on, come on, come on ole ola  
Come on, come on, come on, come on ole ola  
Come on, come on, come on, it's the sound of the year"


	5. Romania, Russia, Armenia, Germany

Update: It came to my attention that I cited the incorrect score from Spain to Germany. That has been corrected and I'm sorry for the confusion.

Chapter 5

"Aniki,_ focus_!" Germany fumed in frustration. "There are three countries left to perform, and then WE go! If you can't rehearse this accursed song with me, what in _Gott's_ name do you think is going to happen out there?"

"West, I'm _drunk_!" Prussia pointed out. He was even swaying a little where he was standing. "_Excuse me_ for not having your depth perception!"

"…Is that vomit on your collar?" Hungary asked, her tone full of disgust.

"No, it's not!" Prussia prissied back. "It's maple syrup!"

"Maple syrup and German beer?" Austria said warily. "That's…not a good combination."

"Just shut up and focus with me!" Germany barked. "Now, I'm about to start before the chorus, so you'd better sing with me!"

"Why do you get _Nancy boy_ here to sing?" Prussia snapped, jabbing his thumb at Austria. "The way he lives in _our_ house now! He might as well throw in the towel as a country!"

"_Elfajzott_!" Hungary barked, advancing upon Prussia.

Austria beat her to the punch though, but buttoning Prussia top button and choking him. "I'm a _Nancy boy_, huh?"

"Austria, ENOUGH!" Germany yelled, grabbing his arm. "If you kill him, I have to do this alone!"

Austria abruptly let Prussia go, looking quite irritated. "It's bad enough to have him burst on me in the bathroom to make fun of my _vital regions_! I don't need _him_ questioning my sexuality!"

"Er, it sounded more like he was questioning your _masculinity_," Hungary said warily.

"If you want to go _there_!" Prussia hollered from the floor. "Spain told me you were the world's biggest **PRUDE** when you two were married!"

Germany uttered a few violent swear words under his breath, rubbing a hand over his face.

"I'M a prude?" Austria hollered. "I sure as hell have been married FAR more times than you!"

"…I forgot Spain was your ex," Hungary said quietly.

* * *

"**The 18****th**** century in Europe for countries can be classified with one term; "stately quadrille". This was in reference to the many, **_**many**_** instances where European countries formed alliances with each other, only to abandon such alliances within a decade. The "marriage" between Austria and Spain was one such alliance, lasting from 1725 to 1731. On a historical viewpoint, Austria has been married roughly four times, to Spain, Russia, Netherlands, and of course Hungary.**

**With Prussia, you **_**could**_** say he was married to Poland for about three hundred years, only that the two hate each other. And that's about it."**

* * *

"Ludwig!"

Both Germany and Prussia stiffened as their boss hurried into the room. She disregarded Prussia's drunkenness for the moment as she focused on the younger Germanic brother. "You aren't seriously going onstage looking like _that_, are you?"

"…What?" Germany looked down at himself. He was in a casual black suit, and his blonde hair was slicked back. He hardly looked any different than he usually did. "What's wrong with my outfit?"

"You look uptight!" his boss reprimanded him. "Come on, you're singing a _love song_! Look young and foolish! Wash this gel out of your hair!" she grabbed one of the lapels of his suit. "Look _suave_, like you're trying to woo a girl! Look _sexy_, dammit!"

Germany gaped at her, horrified. "_Sexy_?"

"Must I do _everything_? Come on." She pulled him in the direction of the green room's bathroom. "I'll take care of this."

"Ma'am, that's not necessary—"

"You, too, Gilbert." She grabbed the other country as he tried to slink past her and out of the room. "Let's wash this vomit off you!"

"Boss, this isn't vomit!" Prussia complained loudly as she dragged both countries into the bathroom. "It's maple syrup!"

The door slammed shut behind them. Austria and Hungary exchanged a look. "Do you see I haven't entered in the past three years?" he asked her.

"Hey, look!" a few people ran past their green room. "More of those vampires are going to perform!"

Hungary stiffened, and he face clouded over. "The Romanians…hmm?"

"Well," Austria said, folding his arms over his chest. "_I _taught them how to play piano, so they owe me some credit for that…strange song they're going to sing."

"What's so strange about it?" Hungary asked. "Not that I really care or anything."

"It's a long-song duet…between the siblings."

* * *

"Good luck," Moldova told his siblings. "You guys will have a better chance than me."

"…Perhaps we will," Wallachia said. "I'm going to make it very interesting from my end."

Transylvania ran a hand through his black hair, looking mildly irritated. "I only wish our boss gave us a less _uncomfortable_ song to sing."

"But the song is a favorite this year," Moldova pointed out. "And you guys placed fourth in your semi-final round."

"But we are singing a _love song_ as a duet. What do we look like, the _Slavic siblings_?"

Moldova winced, and looked over his shoulder. "It's probably best not to talk about our own allies like that."

"Don't be nervous about Russia," Wallachia said. "He gave you such a high score for your song, after all."

"Well, we must go," Transylvania said, brushing himself off. "It will certainly be an interesting show."

"_Da_. It…" Wallachia trailed off as she glanced over her shoulder. She saw a familiar face watching them and a smile leapt to her face. "Look. Elizabeta is here."

"We don't have time," Transylvania reminded her, taking hold of her arm in caution. "They want us onstage now."

"I know." Wallachia winked at Hungary before turning on her heel to follow her brothers.

As they walked towards the stage, a stagehand hurried towards them. "R-Romania! You—"

"We know," Transylvania said curtly. The three siblings brushed past him.

Hungary approached the stagehand, who stood frozen at the spot. "D-Did you see that?" he sputtered. "They _knew _before I told them! They really _are_ vampires!"

Hungary sighed heavily. "They knew because they're _scheduled_ to go up next." She shook her head and walked away. "_Hülye…_"

* * *

"Romania is up next," America read from the program.

"They were in my semi-final round," Lithuania recalled. "Their song is pretty catchy."

"Is he also a vampire?" Japan asked.

"Technically, Romania is two people; brother and sister Transylvania and Wallachia," England said. "But for the last time, vampires aren't real!"

"It was kind of weird how Moldova had his instruments play on his own," Latvia pointed out.

"That's _magic_, not vampirism!"

"Vampires…" Italy whimpered, shivering slightly. "That scares me!"

"Just run away from them," Romano said.

"W-Will that save me?"

"Absolutely. Works every time."

"That doesn't sound like good advice," Spain said.

Before Romano could curse back at him, the stage darkened once more. They could see a tall figure walk across the stage and take a seat at the waiting piano. The song itself involved a beat of dueling pianos, but only one person was sitting, ready to play.

The figure pounded a strong beat onto the piano keys, and the stage lights came up, revealing Transylvania at the piano. Nobody could see Wallachia though. The women in the audience screamed at the pale, dark-haired man at the piano as he stoically leaned into the microphone propped onto the top of the piano. "_Girl, girl, girl, can't you see? What you do to me…tonight._"

"_Boy, boy, boy, if you're mean_." Wallachia had not been initially visible on the stage. But once she started singing everyone could see her standing at the edge of the stage, dressed in a black slinky outfit, and singing into a mic she held in her hand. "_I will start a fight…tonight._"

"_You and I could try to stop_." Transylvania remained at the piano.

"_Oh, boy, till you drop_," Wallachia teased from her position.

"_If we get together now, we'll burn this place down!_"

They sang the chorus together, Transylvania still playing the piano but Wallachia was dancing very seductively onstage. Her routine seemed almost like a palette cleanser for the men in the audience after France's risqué performance not long ago.

In a specific green room, the bathroom door finally opened. "Here they are!" and Germany and Prussia were shoved out. "How do they look, Roderich?"

Austria arched an eyebrow as he folded his arms over his chest. "They look…interesting."

Germany's head was completely messy, as though he's just rolled out of bed. He was dressed entirely in black, but that wasn't saying much. He was wearing a tight muscle-man tank top and baggy pants. He also looked incredibly embarrassed.

Prussia however was dressed in a dark blue silk button-down shirt, with only one button above his navel being buttoned. His black pants were a little tighter than Germany's, but he looked a little too drunk to be embarrassed by his own appearance.

"_Bitte töten Sie mich..._" Germany groaned, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Well," Austria said. "When you wear those types of clothes, and don't put hair gel in your hair, you look five years younger. You'll certainly draw attention to yourself."

"That's something I _don't_ want." Germany walked over to the television, where the Romanian siblings were finishing their performance. "_You and me, can't you see, we're playing with fire? Tell me now; do you feel this burning desire?_"

"Okay, we did what you want," Prussia slurred at their boss. "Can we do something other than _Satellite_ now?"

"_Nein_," she told him firmly. "That was the song we chose, and _this_ is the song that will win us Eurovision this year!"

"But LOOK AT HER!" Prussia whined, jabbing a finger at Wallachia's dancing on the television. "They have a catchier song, and a hot chick! What do _we_ have, huh?"

"Two very handsome brothers and a stronger song," she retorted back.

"You both are going to be fine," Austria sighed in frustration. "I swear, you're both still a couple of children! This is just one single song that you have to sing, and yet you're acting like you're being sentenced to death!"

"Oh, _you're _one to talk!" Prussia snapped. "Mr. I'm-a-master-musician, who got _zero points_ not once but THREE TIMES in Eurovision's history?"

"Be quiet!" Austria snapped back. "You got _zero points_ quite a few times yourself! Two years _in a row_!"

"You can hardly blame _me_ for that!" Prussia gave a toss of his head, but it made himself incredibly dizzy. "_I_ was in Russia's house both years! That was all on West!"

"…And I'm going to fail again this year," Germany said miserably.

"I hardly understand why you two keep whining." Both brothers jumped at their boss's voice. "If you would trust in me, and trust in the song, you'll definitely win this year."

"_You_ try singing about blue underwear," Germany grumbled.

* * *

The Romanian siblings finished with a rousing applause from the audience. Wallachia causally bowed to them, while Transylvania stood up from the piano and stormed off the stage.

"Eight points," Denmark read.

"I didn't score them," Finland said.

"Ten," Norway said, sounding mildly surprised.

"I also gave them ten points," Sweden said.

"Five," Iceland said.

"Whoa, I gave them ten points!" Spain said.

"Six," Poland said.

"…Two," Lithuania said.

"Three," Latvia said.

"Wow, I didn't score them," Estonia said.

"Eight points," England reported.

"Five," Ireland said.

"That was _fantastic_!" Moldova was beyond pleased when his siblings returned backstage. "My judge gave you guys a perfect score! And that was an awesome performance!"

"Thank you," Transylvania said slowly. "Though, it wasn't enough to beat Turkey."

"…Really?" Moldova's shoulders slumped slightly. "That's too bad…"

"What do they mean, 'beat Turkey'?" a stagehand wondered.

Wallachia's face light up. "Excuse me." She walked away from her brothers.

"Are you going to antagonize Hungary?" Transylvania called after her.

Wallachia didn't seem to hear her brother, her focus on the young woman she was approaching. Hungary looked quite furious to see her. Though both women were the same height, Wallachia slightly towered over her at the moment because of the high-heels she wore. "Hello, Elizabeta."

"What do you want?" Hungary asked harshly.

"Well, I _could _ask why you've been spying on me, but…" Wallachia examined her nails. "I _suppose_ I could ask about that dog you named after me."

Hungary smiled sardonically. "He contracted _rabies_."

Wallachia looked up sharply. "What?"

"Yes, it was a real shame. I taught him to stay inside the gate of my home, but you know…he just never listened. Not unlike _some_ people I know."

Wallachia dropped her hand down to her side. "So what? He contracted rabies and you had to put him down?"

"I'm sad to see him go, but I _did _enjoy saying 'bye bye Wallachia' over and over again—"

"_Cățea_!" Wallachia hollered. She grabbed Hungary by the collar as a dark aura surrounded her. "I despise _everything _about you! You, the pathetic little _boy-girl_ who can't ever hang onto a husband! And yet you think you have the right to sit in judgment of _me_?"

Hungary became equally angry, but Wallachia had no collar. She grabbed the girl by the straps of her dress. "You're one to talk! Prancing around in these disgusting outfits to get attention! Intimidating everyone around you by pretending to be vampires!"

"So…after all these years you think it's _pretend_?"

"I _know_ it's pretend!" Hungary snapped. "Remember, _I _use to rule over you! Your lot is no more vampire than _I _am a unicorn!"

An inhuman hiss reverberated from Wallachia's throat and she gnashed her teeth at Hungary. "Why don't you find out, hmm?"

The two women were abruptly pulled apart suddenly. "I wanted to escape all the annoyance," Austria said. "And you've picked a fight with _them_?"

"Wallachia, do _not_ get us disqualified," Transylvania told his sister sternly. "_She_ is not in the contest, so very little can happen to her. Not to mention she's our ally now. We _must_ tolerate her!"

"I didn't pick a fight," Hungary said, brushing herself off. "_She_ approached _me_! She's only lucky I didn't have a frying pan ready!"

"I'm sorry for the trouble," Wallachia told her brother. But she glared at Austria and Hungary. "For the sake of my boss I will _try_ to leave you alone. But you better leave me alone as well!"

"_Gladly_," Hungary snapped.

The Romanian siblings left them alone. Hungary sighed heavily. "I hate losing my temper like that. Except if it's at Prussia."

"He's being exceptionally annoying," Austria said, pulling her along with him. "If you want to throw a frying pan, do so at him. It might sober him up."

"Somehow I doubt that. But, it's certainly a _nice_ idea…"

* * *

_It's time._

Russia brushed himself off and sighed. He was wearing a cream-colored suit under his scarf. He was slightly worried about missing his cue, or forgetting the lyrics. But not as much as he was worried about the companion next to him.

"Good luck, Big Brother!" Belarus cheered. She jumped up and kissed him hard on the cheek, which caused him to shudder. "You'll _definitely_ win! And I'll make sure my judge gives you a perfect score!" she cackled to herself. "I'll_ definitely_ make sure it happens."

"Thank you, Belarus." He still hadn't told her his judge had only given her two points. He didn't look forward to the end of the show, when they showed the tallies.

"W-W-W-We…uh…" the stagehand looked positively frightened to be addressing Russia. "We're r-r-ready, Russia."

"Thank you." he glanced at Belarus. "I must go now."

"Good luck!" she told him again.

When Russia rounded the corner towards the stage, he glanced behind him to make sure Belarus wasn't following him. Then he wiped her kiss off his cheek.

His pocket began to hum, and he pulled out his cell phone to check for texted messages. _"Good luck, Russia! –Love, Ukraine."_

Ukraine was cheering for him, even though she couldn't approach him. It helped to lift his spirits and he tucked his phone back into his pocket.

* * *

"Here comes Russia," America said. He absently cracked his knuckles.

Most of the countries surrounding him visibly flinched. The Baltics in particular began shaking in terror. "No matter which song Mr. Russia sings," Lithuania said painfully. "I-It always gives me a bad feeling…"

"He, like, totally can't do anything now, though," Poland said. "You're, like, independent and stuff."

"I feel a terrible damper in the mood out here," England complained softly.

Indeed, a dark and dismal atmosphere had formed over the audience as Russia's musicians got ready for the performance.

"This is insane," Denmark said, looking around himself. "The guy isn't even onstage and he's scared the shit out of everyone! He's not even a global threat anymore! Man! I remember when _I_ could scare people like this!"

"No, you couldn't," Norway said.

"Like I said, as the King of Scandinavia and the _leader_ of all of you, I had most of Europe quaking in their boots! Now…"

"Now you're considered the happiest place on earth," Iceland said dryly.

Denmark perked up a little at this. "I _have_ won that title quite a few times, haven't I?"

"But in any case," Norway interjected. "I can understand the unease everyone must be feeling. Russia _does_ tend to emulate an aura of pure evil, even without realizing it." He looked down the row at Finland. "You've seen this firsthand, right?"

Finland flinched, and Sweden reached around Sealand once more to put his arm around Finland's shoulders. "Living under Russia wasn't…too bad," Finland managed to say.

Sweden looked at him coldly and withdrew his hand. "Then why did you fight so hard to get away from him?"

"Uh…" Finland swallowed thickly and looked like he was in pain. "B-Because…"

"You aligned yourself with the Axis to defeat him," Norway pointed out.

"**W-WHAT**?" Sealand cried out. He looked at Finland in horror. "You were a _Nazi_, Papa-Finland?"

"_**EI**_!" Finland shouted. He grabbed Sealand by his shoulders and turned the smaller country towards him. "I was absolutely NOT a Nazi! I _was_ part of the Axis powers, but I only joined them to fight Russia, and help them defeat Russia! I didn't commit _any_ genocide and I didn't participate in the Holocaust! I had no part in _any_ of that, and I didn't even know they were going on! Sealand." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "My people were facing _so_ many hard times, and we did it _alone_. Not one of the Allied countries came to my aid, mostly because they didn't want to risk Russia's wrath. I accepted Germany's help because he was the only country to extend me a helping hand. All right? That was all. I had no idea about any 'Final Solution' and I didn't know about the concentration camps until after the war."

Sealand stared at him for a long time in silence before he nodded. "I trust you. You would never take part in any of that." He looked at Sweden. "Didn't you help him, Papa-Sweden?"

Sweden looked incredibly uncomfortable. "My bosses maintained neutrality during World War II, although not to the extent of Switzerland. I sent him military aid, but my hands were tied."

"There wasn't anything you could do," Finland said. "I was technically part of Russia, who had one of the strongest armies in the world. For me, it was like David facing Goliath."

"But you made us all proud," Denmark interjected, smiling broudly. "You were fighting a slippery slope, but _goddamn_! You gave Russia a run for his money! Your Viking instincts returned to you!"

* * *

"**The Winter War between Russia and Finland lasted during the winters of late 1939 and early 1940. By this time, World War 2 was in full swing and Russia was allied with Nazi-Germany. Finland's army of 350,000 was incredibly dwarfed by Russia near million-man army. Unsurprisingly, Finland lost the war and was forced to sign over his territory Karelia to Russia with the promise that Russia would leave him alone. But, the damage inflicted by Finnish troops was profound upon Russia's army. Russia lost almost 130,000 of his troops, with 189,000 left wounded and 3,500 tanks destroyed. Finland, by comparison, only lost 25,000 troops, had 43,000 wounded and only lost 30 tanks.**

**Though Russia won, he was ultimately the loser in this short war, and his colossal losses in comparison to Finland were one of the many reasons Nazi-Germany began to second guess their alliance, and ultimately turn on Russia to side with Finland."**

* * *

Finland flinched again, and cuddled Hanatamago tightly to his chest. "I don't consider that to be a pleasant memory…"

A soft piano rose from the stage, and everyone abruptly silenced. The stage lights slowly came up, revealing Russia standing front and center in front of the microphone.

"_Would you believe…Lord of Mercy_?" he sang out. "_Would you be so good, Lord_?"

"What the fuck does _he _know about mercy?" Poland fumed.

"_I wanna love her now._" Russia extended his arms out as the audience recoiled. "_And I wanna feel that now with all…All of those kisses and sweet embraces_.

"_Here am I (hoo)…lost and forgotten. For this cruel, cruel time. When I'm, first time in love. Now that is why…Now that is why I sing…Lord of Mercy. And I hope now that you hear me…oh yes…_"

Everyone gaped stunned at this performance. "…Are you fucking kidding me?" Romano said.

"_Who _is he singing about?" England wondered.

"A woman," Lithuania said. There was some relief in his voice.

"Maybe it's **BELARUS**!" Poland said loudly.

Russia faltered onstage. "_Oh, yes, yes, I'm gonna burn them now…_"

"Feliks, don't even _think_ that!" Lithuania hissed. "It's completely _wrong_!"

"Well, you, like, totally can't deny she throws herself at him," Poland said.

Lithuania looked crestfallen. "She's just…_confused_, is all."

"_How_? She tries to get into his pants all the time, all the while calling him 'Big Brother'! She knows what their biological relationship is and doesn't care!"

"…My nose is hurting again…"

As Russia hit several high notes in his song, Italy flinched. "H-He's scaring me! Why can't Germany just come onstage?"

"Don't fret, Veneziano," Spain said, reaching forward to touch him on the shoulder. "This'll be over with shortly."

Mercifully, the song _was_ over with shortly. Fearing Russia's wrath, everyone stood to give him a standing ovation as he bowed gentlemanly and walked offstage.

The scores went out quickly and everyone checked their phones.

"…Ten points," Ukraine said, sitting in her green room. She was now dressed in a more casual outfit. "I'm glad I gave him a high score."

Poland cackled loudly. "Zero points! Oh, this is too rich!"

"…I gave him five," Lithuania said quietly.

"Eight?" Latvia read.

"TEN?" Estonia shouted.

"…Did any of us score him?" Finland asked meekly.

"It doesn't look like it," Sweden said.

"Looks like everyone were mostly too scared to score him," England said, tucking his phone away.

* * *

Russia looked around the wings warily as he exited the stage. He didn't see Belarus anywhere. He sighed quietly in relief, though his heart felt a very slight twist in his heart at not seeing Ukraine anywhere. _I suppose she won't approach me again…for a while…_

"_Russia!_"

Russia perked up at this voice, and the twist in his chest faded. "That sounds like Armenia," he said aloud.

"It _is _me!" the country in question ran straight over to Russia, the usually stoic young man wearing a happy smile. Everyone all around them, workers and representatives alike, froze to gape at this scene.

Russia watched him stop and catch his breath in front of him. "It is nice to see you again, Armenia," he said, tone surprisingly bright. "Would you like some candy?" He reached into the pocket of his suit and pulled out a chocolate bar to give to him.

Armenia stared at the chocolate bar in his hand for a moment before he tucked it away. "I'm so sorry," he said. "I'd wanted to see you before you went onstage to wish you good luck, but I didn't find you in time."

"It's really no problem," Russia said. He smiled at him. "I knew you would be cheering for me, so the added good luck wasn't necessary."

"I suppose so. But, since I'm here now I want to congratulate you." Armenia was smiling even brighter now, looking so unlike the quiet, moody country who'd been avoiding Turkey and Azerbaijan like the plague. "You did such an amazing job! And to think _I _have to follow your act…"

"Oh, you _do_ go on next." Russia laughed lightly behind his smile. "Well, good luck, then. Not that you will need it, of course. My judges are always good to you with scores."

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Armenia gasped. He fished into his pocket. "I haven't checked the score _my _judge gave you!"

"You can tell me it now," Russia said.

"Of course I will." Armenia flipped open his phone. "I'm su…" his voice trailed off, and his face fell at what he saw in his phone.

"What was my score?" Russia asked. He was still smiling, and his voice gave nothing away.

Armenia looked quite upset. He looked between Russia and his cell phone. "Uh, I…"

"Come on, show me." As he said this, Russia grabbed Armenia's wrist in his hand and turned his hand so he could see the text message. He leaned over close to read it. "You gave me ten points. That was good of you."

"I-I'm sorry!" Armenia blurted out. "I've given you perfect scores up to now, but now it's different for some reason!"

"Ten is still a high score," Russia said reassuringly. "There's no need to fear if I'm offended."

"B-But I don't understand! Your song was so _good_, and we…" Armenia trailed off, and looked away slightly. "It must be because Georgia already got a perfect score from me."

"You gave Georgia a perfect score?" Russia asked. Once again he revealed nothing, but the implications of his words were profound. Georgia _was_ one of his enemies, after all.

"I'm sorry," Armenia repeated. He no longer sounded fearful, but he seemed uneasy by this predicament. Everyone watching this scene was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It was then that Russia reached out…and ruffled his hair. "Come now, stop apologizing. Georgia is your ally, even if he isn't mine. You need all the allies you can get in your area, Armenia. Why should I be offended by your personal choices?"

"…Ten _is _a high score," Armenia admitted. "I'm happy I haven't offended you…"

"…Am I seeing this?" one stagehand hissed to another. "Is that _Russia_? Russia, the crazy country? And is he showing affection? Like, _**real affection**_?"

"I'm going to have nightmares," the other hissed back.

* * *

"**Russia and Armenia have always maintained an incredibly close relationship. While Armenia was under the Ottoman Empire rule, Russia would often send support to Armenia, stressing the importance of Christians in the Ottoman territory. When the Armenian Genocide occurred, Russia was one of the first countries to send aid, just after Romania and America. It is said that Russia's slaughter of the Ottoman III Army during World War I was retribution for the thousands of dead, unarmed Armenian civilians his troops had seen as they'd advanced upon the Army. Although Armenia was later annexed by Russia into the USSR, he was very well taken care of under the Soviet rule, except for the period in which Joseph Stalin was in power. Today, Armenia is considered to be Russia's only ally in the region and they maintain a strong, friendly relationship. Russia in turn has supplied Armenia with his own soldiers for protection, in light of the threat present in Turkey and Azerbaijan.**

**Ironically though, the first country to recognize Armenia's independence from Russia was Turkey."**

* * *

"Big Brother!"

Russia stiffened, and dropped his hand away from Armenia's head. Belarus had found him.

"Look, look, Big Brother! I gave you a _perfect score_! Just like I knew I would!" Belarus shoved her cell phone in Russia's face.

"T-Thank you, Belarus," Russia said warily.

"It…" her voice trailed off as she noticed Armenia's presence. She glared, and drew her phone away from Russia. "Hello, Armenia," she said coldly.

"Hello, Miss Belarus," Armenia said. He didn't sound hostile towards her, but his tone was very careful.

"Well, it's just about time for you to perform," Russia cut in quickly. He gave Armenia a slight slap on the back and pushed him towards the stage. "I'll be watching your performance from here."

"R-Right, thank you," Armenia said slowly. He started towards the stage, visibly taking several deep breaths.

Belarus glared up into Russia's face. "Why must it be like this, Big Brother? Why must you favor the company of _them_ over me, your sister?"

_Because __**they**__ don't scare me._ Russia swallowed and rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. "Er…how might I say this…"

* * *

On the darkened stage, Armenia moved to take position with his musicians. _I don't care if I win or not,_ he thought to himself._ I only want to score higher than…those two._

"West, what are you doing?" Prussia complained loudly as Germany dragged him to the edge of the curtain. "Why are we out here?"

"Because we're next after Armenia," Germany snapped.

"…Oh."

"So, Armenia is next?" Lithuania asked slowly.

"He's a cool guy," America said. "But sometimes it can be frustrating dealing with his feud with Turkey. Armenia insists we make reference and recognize his Genocide, and anytime my bosses do Turkey throws a shitfit. But if we don't, _he_ throws the shitfit!"

"He…suffered greatly," Greece said slowly. "For everything horrible Germany did during World War II, at least he acknowledges what he did. Turkey doesn't."

"Germany acknowledges," Poland fumed from this. "Like _that's_ totally going to bring back my _five million_ people that died."

"He paid you reparations," Lithuania said, trying to both soothe Poland and diffuse his anger. "As he did Israel. W-What he did was unforgivable, but when you compare it to other nations who have committed genocide _since_ then, and haven't acknowledged it, he is at least trying."

"…My economy hasn't really recovered," England said quietly to himself.

"Guys, can we talk about something else?" Italy complained loudly. "This is _really_ unpleasant!"

"It's_ reality_," Romano snapped.

"We need to calm down," Japan said. He understood the conversation and it made him incredibly uneasy. "This is a peaceful, happy event. Let's not let the past damper it."

Everyone begrudgingly agreed. Latvia sighed to himself. "Armenia is not one to complain much. The entire time he lived with Russia, not_ once_ did _he_ have to live in fear of his wrath…"

"That's true," Estonia said thoughtfully. "And the funny thing is; Russia never considered him his "favorite"."

Lithuania made a soft lurching noise and Poland patted him on the shoulder.

A soft flute rose from the stage, indicating the start of Armenia's performance. The arena immediately silenced for this.

Turkey stood stiffly at the side of the stage, arms folded over his chest. Nearby Russia was also standing beside the curtain, and it was almost like the other country was deliberately giving off an aura of intimidation. This aura seemed to intensify when Turkey felt Azerbaijan come up to stand next to him.

Armenia could see his enemies at the side of the stage, but he forced himself to look forward at the audience. "_Many, many years ago; when I was a little child. Mama told me you should know; our world is cruel and wild. But to make your way through cold and heat…Love is all…that you need._"

He tried to relax a little with the music. "_I believed her every word; more than anything I heard. But I was too scared to lose my fun…I began to cry a lot. And she gave me apricots. Kisses of the earth, fruits of the sun_." as he sang the lyrics, his left hand raised and he revealed an apricot-colored stone in his palm.

"_Apricot stone, hidden in my hand…given back to me…from the Motherland…_"

Germany frowned at this performance. "This is bad."

"How come?" Prussia asked. He was partially leaning on Germany to remain steady. "I mean, he has a strong voice but we have a better beat, West!"

It pleased Germany to see Prussia have a little more enthusiasm for their performance. Still, he sighed and shook his head. "Aniki…this song is a metaphor for the Armenian Genocide."

Prussia froze, and he looked at Germany in horror. "A-Are…are you serious, West?"

"_Very_ serious." Germany turned back to the stage.

"…_now I'm not afraid of violent winds_," Armenia sang out. "_They may blow…they can't win_." His gaze darted right to the side of the stage as he sang this line.

Right where Turkey and Azerbaijan were standing.

Prussia didn't miss any of this. "_…Mein Gott…_W-We…" He looked back at Germany. "W-WE'RE following a song about _**GENOCIDE**_?"

"Aniki—" Germany interjected, realizing too late his error.

Prussia dug his fingers into his face. "We might as well forfeit now! We're fucked! Oh man, we're SO FUCKED!"

"Aniki, calm down and be quiet!" Germany slapped his hand over Prussia's mouth.

"Is there a problem?" a stagehand scolded them. "You're creating a ruckus!"

"W-We're sorry," Germany stammered.

Prussia started crying hysterically into his palm, and Germany's stomach knotted up. _I shouldn't have said anything. I shouldn't have said __**anything**__…_

Armenia continued with his song. Azerbaijan and turned away. "If he thinks he can defeat me with _that_, he's solely mistaken." She gave a short smile to Turkey. "I'm going to go look for Georgia. I'd rather not get into a fight with _him_ again."

"Understood," Turkey said, but he remained where he was standing as Azerbaijan walked away.

"_Apricot Stone_." The song finished with an amazing flourish, despite the slow start, and Armenia got many cheers. He managed a sincere smile to the audience and bowed before he left the stage.

"…One point," Latvia said.

"Four," Estonia said.

"Five," Poland said.

"I-I didn't score him," Lithuania said.

"Six," Spain said.

"Wow," Netherlands said. "I gave him a perfect score!"

"…Nothing," England said.

"Armenia." Russia greeted the country as he returned backstage. "My judge gave you a perfect score."

"_Shnorhagallem_," Armenia said, laughing and smiling a little. "I gave it my best shot, and they seemed to like it! I…" He trailed off when he saw Prussia sobbing hysterically just a few feet away. "What's wrong with him?"

"Who really knows?" Russia said, shrugging slightly.

"You."

Both countries jumped Belarus seemed to materialize out of thin air, glaring at Armenia. "My judge gave you five points."

"_S-Shnorhagallem_," Armenia said.

"You had _better_ be thankful!"

"Now, now, Belarus," Russia said, raising his hands. "Let's not be unpleasant—"

Turkey checked his phone and saw the score he gave Armenia. Throwing caution to the wind, he approached the other country. "Armenia! Armenia!"

Armenia's face darkened, and Russia quickly snapped to attention. Turkey forced a smile on his face as he showed Armenia his phone. "Look, look! My judge gave you eight points!"

Armenia stared at the message in Turkey's phone before he glared at Turkey. "That's nice," he said coldly. "My judge gave you _nothing_."

Anger filled Turkey, but he knew better than to pick a fight with Armenia with Russia standing right there. He sighed shortly and spun around to walk away. _You try to do something nice and your efforts are for nothing. __**Kids**__..._

* * *

"How could you do it?" Azerbaijan snapped.

"What?" Georgia demanded. "It's only ten points. He gave me a perfect score, after all."

* * *

Germany uttered various swear words as he cleaned Prussia's face. "Aniki, just calm down! We're going to do _fine_!"

"T-They'll kill us!" Prussia wailed.

"No, they won't!" Germany snapped. "That song was a _metaphor_! Most people won't understand it! Just calm down and _focus_! We have to go onstage RIGHT NOW!"

Prussia sniffled and took a few deep breaths. "Really?"

"_Ja_, really! Now, are you ready?"

"Here you two are," Austria said, approaching them with Hungary. "Aren't you supposed to be onstage?"

"I just needed to calm him down," Germany said.

"You guys will be fine. Just forget about everything and enjoy yourselves."

Prussia barked out a laugh. "I'll certainly do better than YOU!"

Austria stared at him blankly. "You _do_ realize I'm trying to encourage you, right?"

"Just get out there and tear the roof down," Hungary said cheerfully. "Even if some people boo you, just know that _we_ will cheer for you! And so will Italy!"

Just the reminder of the other's country's presence caused Germany to stiffen. "Uh—"

"LET'S GO, WEST!" Prussia cheered. He put Germany in a headlock and proceeded to drag him onstage. Rather, stumble wildly with his little brother.

Hungary looked at Austria. "They'll do fine."

"Somehow I doubt it," Austria said dryly.

* * *

"Germany is up next, correct?" Japan asked. He smiled a little. "I will cheer for him, as my old friend."

"YAY!" Italy shouted. He pulled his miniature German flag out of his pocket and began to wave it once more. "Doitsu! Doitsu, Doitsu, Doitsu—"

"SHUT UP!" Romano snapped.

The German brothers could be seen stumbling wildly onto the stage before the both fell over. The larger of the two, Germany jumped to his feet and lifted Prussia up. He dragged Prussia over to a microphone a little distance away from the edge of the stage.

Spain felt a presence beside him. "Did I miss the performance?"

Romano 'eeped', and stiffened ahead of them. But Spain smiled at France, who was dressed now a little more conservatively. "They just came onstage. Gilbert looks a little inebriated."

France chuckled as he took a seat next to Canada. "That makes for a _much_ better show!"

"I-It's a nice song," Canada said.

"You've heard it?"

"Just about a minute of it…"

Germany left Prussia leaning against his microphone stand as he walked over to stand in front of the microphone front and center.

"Doitsu!"

And the first person he saw in the audience was _Italy_.

The happy country was cheerfully waving _his_ flag! Germany felt his face turn red, and a chill overtook. _Nein, nein! Please not stage fright! I can't have stage fright!_

The peppy, snappy beat began and Germany forced himself to calm down. Still, he stood very stiff onstage; the only indication of movement was his right hand tapping on his thigh in time with the music. The stage was shadowed in blue lights, and women surprisingly screamed when they saw him. He flinched but forced himself steady again.

"_I went everywhere for you. I even did my hair for you. I bought new underwear that blue, and I wore it just…the other day._"

Germany swallowed thickly before he continued. "_Love you; know I'd fight for you. I left on the porch light for you. Whether you are sweet or cool, I'm gonna love you…either way…_"

Romano sat there in silence for a moment. Then he burst out with the most hysterical laughter in the world. Pointing openly at Germany, he shrieked in laughter.

"Nii-san, stop it!" Italy cried.

Germany heard the laughter, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it. "_Love, Oh, Love…I gotta tell you how I feel about you. Cause I, Oh, I…Can't go a minute without your love._" He ducked his head slightly. "_Like a satellite, I'm in orbit all the way around you. And I would fall out into the night. Can't go a minute without your love_."

Prussia had sung the chorus at least, though it had been noticeably slurred. Germany took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Despite Romano's loud, obnoxious laughter he saw Italy again. The other country looked upset at his older brother's behavior but happy to cheer on Germany. Germany was surprised at how much better he felt to see Italy cheering for him and not laughing at him. It helped to relax him and he even allowed his body to sway slightly with the music.

"_Love, I got it bad for you. I save the best I have for you. You sometimes make me sad and blue, wouldn't have it any…other way._"

Germany was starting to get into the song now. "_Love my aim is straight and true…Cupid's arrow is just for you_!" without even realizing it, he pointed _right_ at Italy. Embarrassed, he jerked his arm down. "_I even painted my toenails for you, I did it just the…other day_!"

Italy sat very still in his seat. "D-Did he?" He looked at Poland.

Poland grinned slightly at him. "He totally pointed at you, Italy. He's singing the song just for you!"

"**FINOCCHIO**!" Romano yelled.

"_Love, Oh, Love…I gotta tell you how I feel about you. Cause I, Oh, I…Can't go a minute without your love._" Germany knew what Romano had shouted at him, and it embarrassed him even more. But he couldn't do anything about it. "_Like a satellite, I'm in orbit all the way around you. And I would fall out into the night_—"

"_CAN'T GO A MINUTE WITHOUT YOUR LOVE_!" Prussia bellowed out behind him.

Germany flinched, but tried to ignore everything around him. "_Where you go…I follow. You set the pace; we take it fast or slow. I follow…in your wake. Oh, oh, oh…_"

Italy gaped. "H-He…he _is_ singing about me!"

"How do you reckon?" America asked.

"_You got me…you got me! A force more powerful than gravity! It's physics…there's no escape_!"

Romano looked at his brother and scoffed. "Only _pussies_ serenade with singing!"

Spain laughed behind him. "You didn't mind it when _I _did it."

"OF COURSE I DID!"

Germany and Prussia sang another round of the chorus, though Germany was starting to get annoyed. Prussia didn't sound like he was singing the words anymore. "_Like a satellite, I'm in orbit all the way around you—_"

"_Hrm, hrm, LOVE, hrm, grm…_" Prussia began grunting into the microphone.

Thankfully for Germany, they finished the song shortly afterwards. Germany came out from behind the mic stand and bowed to the audience, while Prussia waved his hand.

After a moment of stillness, abruptly most the audience jumped to their feet and clapped and cheered loudly. Whistles and shrieks erupted out, everyone showering praise.

Germany gaped for a moment before he bowed again. Prussia seemed quite pleased with the response.

Denmark looked at the reaction from the audience with apprehension. "Oh boy…"

As both brothers left the stage, scores went out immediately and everyone checked for them.

"Ten points," Belgium reported, her tone slightly stoic.

"What a coincidence, I gave him ten points as well," Netherlands laughed.

Belgium craned her neck slightly. "Hmm? Did anyone hear something?"

"…Nee-san," Luxembourg sighed.

"Seven," Poland said dully.

"Twelve points!" Spain cheered. "That's a perfect score!"

"I gave them three points," France said, looking at Spain. "My judge was not kind to you two this year, was he?"

"I-I gave him a perfect score, too!" Estonia said.

"So did I!" Latvia said.

"Ten points," Lithuania said.

"Four," England said.

"Eight," Ireland said.

Italy stared down at his lap, not saying a word.

"What's wrong with you?" Romano asked. "I know the potato bastard put on a shitty performance, but don't sulk!"

"…I'm not sulking," Italy said quietly. He looked up and smiled. "I just…I feel so happy right now."

Romano stared at him for a moment before he shook his head. "Pansy."

"What the—" Denmark gaped at his phone. "I gave my perfect score to **HIM**?"

"…So did I," Norway said.

"And me," Finland said.

"…Me too," Sweden said.

Iceland shrugged. "I gave him three points."

"Still, that's…" Denmark counted on his fingers. "Twelve times four, plus three…"

"Fifty-one points between the five of us," Norway said.

"Holy shit, that's a lot of points! And if _four_ of us gave him a perfect score, can you imagine how many others did, too?"

Finland laughed. "It makes for an interesting rest of the contest!"

Sealand flipped through _Swedish for Dummies_. "'Where's the toilet?' …'_Var finns det en toalett?_'"

Denmark stared at him blankly for a moment before he shrieked with laughter.

"You guys did amazing!" Austria praised, clapping as the Germanic brothers came backstage. "Listen, they're still cheering for you both!"

Germany rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand and laughed sheepishly. "We really did it, huh?"

"It was so adorable!" Hungary gushed. "How you were singing directly to Italy!"

Germany's hand abruptly dropped down to his side, and his face turned red. "U-Uh…"

"We're the best!" Prussia shouted. "Nothing can beat us! Noth…" he stilled, and very quickly his face turned green.

Austria stared at him for a moment. "P-Prussia—"

Too late. Prussia turned his head, and his body, and vomited all over Hungary.

* * *

This chapter was so much fun to write!

Denmark has been consistently ranked as the happiest country in the world for the past few years now, as can be found at Forbes's website. This year, actually, nearly all of the Nordics were in the top 5: Finland placed second, Norway placed third, and Sweden placed fourth. Iceland placed twenty-third. And for good measure, America tied with Austria at fourteenth, which is admittedly a hell of a lot higher than I expected it to be placed.

Yes, there have been cases where Austria not only placed last, but got zero points. This happened in 1962, 1988, and 1991. But he's not the only country to ever get zero points; as Germany himself got zero points two years in a row in 1964 and 1965. But as Prussia pointed out, this was during the Cold War and Prussia as East Germany didn't participate with his brother, so these losses would be Ludwig's fault (lol).

Funny thing is, when I first started writing this, I'd intended for Armenia to be a girl. But when I read about this country's history, and the closeness they have to Russia, I switched the gender. If Himaruya ever wants to show a "gentler" side to Russia, then without a doubt he needs to introduce Armenia as a character. At least that's what I think.

The next chapter is the finale. Stay tuned!


	6. Israel, Denmark, Finale

Thank you all for the kind reviews, and for the constructive criticism. I hope you enjoy this final chapter.

Thank you Fortune Maiden for giving me a few heads up about some of the events in this chapter! And another thanks to MitsuneMarufuji for correcting all of the German in this chapter for me!

Chapter 6

"_Scheiße... Scheiß HӦLLE_!" Prussia hissed in anguish.

"Aniki, keep your head tilted back or you'll bleed all over your shirt again." Germany walked over to his brother and helped to direct his head back. He made Prussia press a blood-soaked handkerchief over his face. "You were lucky, though. She didn't break your nose."

"I saw Belarus break Lithuania's nose," Austria said idly, reading a book. "I felt sorry for the lad; he really didn't deserve it. All he did was try and talk to her and she punched him square in the nose. I was standing quite a distance away and I heard it break. Poland completely lost it—"

"Fuck Poland!" Prussia hollered. He then winced. "Ow, ow, ow! That bitch ruined me!"

"Your nose isn't broken, and she only knocked out three teeth," Germany sighed. "We're countries, Aniki. By tomorrow your nose will no longer be bleeding, and your teeth will start to grow back."

"Why did she have to hit me with a _verfickten _frying pan?"

"Because you threw up all over her," Austria pointed out. "But at least it sobered you up."

"Too late for that," Germany grumbled. "We already performed!"

"But we _killed_ them!" Prussia protested. "West, you heard the cheers! They had to stop the show because people wouldn't stop!"

"You both _did _get a very enthusiastic response," Austria said. "They haven't reacted that way to any other performance tonight. It's a very good sign."

"Yeah!" Prussia yelled, giving Austria the middle finger. "We sure showed you!"

"Aniki, he's _cheering_ for us!" Germany snapped.

"Don't bother," Austria said, shaking his head. "This is behavior I've dealt with for hundreds of years. Keep in mind, Germany that this idiot yearly takes trips to one of my smallest towns and makes an unnecessary ruckus."

"Then maybe you shouldn't have named one of your town FUCKING!" Prussia laughed.

Austria turned bright red. "…You know very well that that's not how it's pronounced…"

* * *

"**Located in the north of Austria is a tiny town named Fucking. Pronounced 'fooking', the population size is just over a hundred people. This town gained notoriety during World War II thanks to British and American soldiers, who were amazed by the perceived name of the town. Today, this tiny village gets thousands of visitors each year, and the main town sign was routinely stolen for many years (perhaps by Prussia). Because of the antics of the tourists from all over the world, townspeople have had to setup security cameras in front of Fucking signs because people in the past have had sexual intercourse in front of them."**

* * *

Hungary came into the room, rubbing a towel through her hair. "I'm back. It was so difficult to find the showers…"

"Are you all right?" Austria asked.

"I'm fine. I was just taken off-guard, is all." Hungary glared at Prussia. "But don't ever puke on me again, got it?"

Prussia grumbled under his breath, holding the handkerchief against his face.

"But Portugal goes up next, and then two more performances before the end of the show," Hungary said, changing the subject. She smiled at Germany. "I'd say you two have a pretty good chance this year."

"_Danke_," Germany said.

"Let's make a bet!" Prussia announced, jumping to his feet. "If we win…rather, _when_ we win, Nancy boy here has to _pledge_ to enter next year!" he pointed to Austria.

Austria arched an eyebrow. "_How_ does this penalize me in any way?"

"Because then we can **KICK YOUR ASS** on our own soil!" Prussia cheered, pumping his fists. His face was very swollen, but it appeared the bleeding had stopped.

"You should enter, anyways," Hungary said. "It's been a long time since you've done so."

Austria calmly closed his book and stood up. "…Fine," he said neutrally. "If you win, I'll enter next year. But, if you lose, _even_ if it's second place, you can't make fun of me for a whole year."

The color drained from Prussia's bruised face. "W-What?"

"Deal," Germany cut in, rubbing his head. "Look, Portugal is starting to come onstage!" he pointed to the green room television.

"That's an unfair deal!" Prussia screamed. He grabbed Austria by his collar. "I can't make fun of you for A WHOLE YEAR? That's IMPOSSIBLE!"

"Then you'd better get first, and nothing less," Austria said harshly.

"It's a win-win for you either way, Austria!" Hungary cheered.

* * *

The arena began to darken once more in preparation for Portugal's performance.

"Well," Denmark said, standing up from his seat. "I go after this guy and Israel. I'd better get backstage."

"You're leaving _as_ he's taking the stage?" Norway asked, pointing to the country as he took the stage.

"Look," Denmark said, leaning over Norway. "I understand you wanted to spend more time with me, but I have to go onstage and perform soon." He winked at Norway. "But don't worry. I'll return the favor to you."

Norway stared at him blankly. "Wha—"

"G-Good luck," Finland interjected. "You'd better get backstage and get ready, Denmark!"

"I know, I know. _Farvel, alle_!" Denmark hurried off towards the side of the stage.

Norway shook his head. "Did he hit his head or something? What has he been rambling on about?"

Finland stiffened. "U-Uh…"

"He thinks you sang _My Heart is Yours_ to him," Sweden said blandly.

Norway gaped at him. "You're joking."

"…No, I'm not."

Norway sighed heavily and slapped a hand over his face. "I can't believe this…"

"But you aren't denying it," Finland said, laughing a little.

Norway glared at him and straightened in his seat. "I don't have time to dwell on such idiotic subjects." He sighed shortly, and looked at Iceland.

Iceland glanced at him nervously. "W-What is it?"

"You still haven't told me who you're in love with."

"So much for not dwelling on idiotic subjects," Sweden grumbled.

The lights came up onstage and the music began to play.

"YEAH, Portugal!" Spain cheered, clapping his hands.

"You're pretty enthusiastic about his performance," Romano pointed out.

"Come now, _tomate pequeño_! I didn't complain when you cheered on Belgium!"

"Yes, you DID!"

Portugal was revealed standing in front of the microphone. As Spain's closest neighbor, Portugal _did_ look a little like him. Only, his brown hair was so dark it looked almost black, his eyes were hazel, and his skin was bronze. His short hair was long in the front as well, and it fell slightly into his face. "_Há dias assim…Que nos deixam sós…_"

"He's singing in his own language," America said.

"Are you going to point out_ every_ instance somebody doesn't sing in English?" England snapped.

Spain was humming along with the song, and tapping his fingers on the armrests of his chair.

"You're pretty enthusiastic, Antonio," France laughed, twirling a rose in his hand. "And to think, that man onstage use to be your mortal enemy…"

Spain shrugged. "Time changes people, I suppose. He sent me a texted letting me know he'd given me a perfect score on my performance. I'm sure I'm going to return the favor."

"Why don't you just _marry_ him if you get this giddy?" Romano barked over his shoulder.

Spain stared at him for a moment before he shook his head. "Been there, done that."

"There's no need to act so _jealous_, Romano," France teased. "We _all_ know whose heart Antonio belo—"

"Shut up!" Romano slapped his hands over his ears. "LA LA LA, I CAN'T HEAR YOU, LA LA LA!"

* * *

"**Spain and Portugal did not initially get along through their extensive history. They both set out on expeditions around the world around the same time, and often feuded over land in South America. In 1580 King Philip II of Spain seized the Portuguese crown, and the two countries wound up in a rather bitter marriage that lasted until 1640. During this time Portugal was forced to fight in all of Spain's wars, and adapt to his foreign and domestic policies, which he was not happy about **_**at all**_**. After their messy divorce, the two countries were very often enemies in the many wars that ravaged Europe.**

**After both countries ended their individual but extensive isolationism in the 1970s, all of a sudden they saw each other in a completely different light. They both entered the European Union at the exact same time, and have become very close allies in many domestic policies, and have recently thrown in a bid to jointly host the 2018 World Cup."**

* * *

"You've always been pretty close to him, Francis," Spain said.

France shrugged. "He's always been a good…_companion_ to have. He may be a bit reckless with the allies he chooses—and pissing off the ones he _does_ have—but I like his _company_."

"Hmm." Spain thought about it for a moment. "_Sí_, he is good _company _to have. For all the fighting that we've had in the past, he _is_ rather good with—"

"Why the fuck are you _idiotas _talking about THAT?" Romano hollered.

"But you, of course, are _much_ better," Spain added hastily.

"But what _are_ they talking about?" Italy asked obliviously.

"So whose _company_ does he have now?" Poland asked wickedly, turning in his seat.

"Feliks—" Lithuania began.

"I'm…not sure," Spain said after a moment. "He seemed very close with Serbia, but unfortunately it's as Francis said; he's made Serbia quite angry a few times. But, I _do_ know he calls North Korea a lot—"

"**W-WHAT**?" America screamed, jumping to his feet.

"_**NANI**_?" Japan screamed at the same time. "_J-Joudan deshou_?"

Spain looked at them in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"_Why_ would he be buddy-buddy with _North Korea_?" America snapped.

"North Korea tests his weapons right outside my house!" Japan said. "And when I bring my complaints to him, he threatens to declare war on me! Don't you pay attention to the U.N. meetings?"

"Well, that's Portugal's own business," Spain said simply. "I _do_ know that North Korea went to Portugal personally to offer condolences when his prime minister died. Nobody questions_ your_ friendships with certain countries, America—"

"Yes you guys do, all the time!" America barked. "And _my_ relationship with Israel is _drastically _different! Israel hasn't built a personality-cult government and brainwashed her own people!"

"Well, the Korean twins are the way they are now because of you two," France said, indicating America and Japan. "So you guys only have yourselves to blame for it."

"_You_ aren't exactly on nice terms with him either, frog-face," England snapped. "You and Estonia here are the only countries in the EU not acknowledging his existence, in addition to having _no _economic ties to him and virtually no _diplomatic _ties to him!"

"I think I'm fairly justified in not acknowledging him," Estonia said defensively. "But why are you dragging me into this argument?"

Japan sank into his seat. "I'm conjuring up horrible memories…"

"Excuse me for trying to save the Korean War," America fumed, slamming himself down hard into the seat. "And why doesn't anyone ever cite _Russia's_ atrocities during that war? No, _I'm_ always the evil invader!"

* * *

"**Up to the 20****th**** century, Korea was overseen by two twin brothers. In 1910, the country of Korea was seized by Japan as part of his empire and both brothers were horribly mistreated. At the end of World War II Japan relinquished hold of Korea, but the brothers were immediately separated again; Russia and China claiming the brother of the North, and America, England, and to a lesser extent France the brother of the South. This ignited the Korean War, where both brothers sought unification, but only based on the ideals of the respective countries who claimed him. In the end the war ended in a stalemate, and the brothers remained separated along the 38****th**** Parallel. While South Korea has flourished as a country diplomatically, economically, and culturally, North Korea has become known as a "hermit kingdom", isolated from much of the world and incredibly poor. Famine crisis, and rumors of labors camps for citizens deemed enemies of the government, many human-rights violations and resolutions have been stacked against North Korea. However, he continues to maintain an incredibly close relationship to both Russia and China, while harboring hatred towards Japan and America."**

* * *

"Let's not discuss such unpleasant things," Greece said, reaching over the seat to rub Japan's shoulders. "This is a peaceful event, and the Korean War was sixty years ago. And I think a great deal more people these days are to blame for the state in which North Korea is in."

Portugal surely couldn't have missed all this screaming. But he didn't break beat once, and finished his song without a hitch.

"_¡Bravo!_" Spain cheered, jumping up and clapping enthusiastically.

"You weren't even paying attention!" Romano snapped.

Scores were sent out the minute Portugal left the stage, and everyone was quick to check them.

"Eight points," France said.

"…Six points?" Spain read from his phone. He thought about it for a moment. "Oh, wait, I already gave Germany a perfect score. Oh…" he sank into his seat. "Portugal gives me a perfect score and I only give him _six points_? That's…bad."

"That's what you get for giving a perfect score to a _shitty song_!" Romano reprimanded him.

"Don't talk about Germany's song like that!" Italy snapped.

"Six points," Latvia said. He looked at the other countries. "Is that it?"

"One point," Iceland said, tucking his phone away. "Looks like that's it from us."

"Israel is next," Norway said, folding his arms over his chest. "Though, she's been in quite a bit of trouble lately."

Sealand flipped to another page in _Swedish for Dummies_. "'_Jag är snyggare naken_!'"

Sweden ripped the book out of his hands and tucked it into his coat. "That's enough of _that_."

"Hey! I'm learning Swedish!"

* * *

Israel took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was time for her to perform. Many of the other countries were keeping their distance from her. She knew it had to do in part with the _soldiers_ that were guarding her, but it couldn't be helped. There were just too many threats to her, and not just from her neighbors. Even a peaceful event like this didn't mean there wouldn't be problems. The Olympics were also a peaceful event, and yet…

_No_. She shook her head. _Don't think of something so unpleasant. Focus on the present. Focus on victory._

"We're ready for you," the stagehand told her; mindful of the armed guards surrounding her.

"Thank you." Israel brushed out her pale blue Fendi dress and stood up. "I'm ready."

"_The next country we would like to present is Israel!"_

America jumped to his feet and began clapping furiously. "YEEEEEAAAAAAH! ISRAEL!" he shoved his fingers into his mouth and whistled loudly.

"She hasn't even come onstage and you're asking for an encore," England sighed, shaking his head.

Israel_ did _receive a modest applause as she took the stage and stood in front of the waiting microphone. Behind her, one of her musicians took to the piano and began playing a soft melody.

"_Shuv ha'etsev kan, shuv hapachad kan…Vehasof nirkan…bechaloni…_"

"Aren't you going to comment on how she's singing in Hebrew?" England asked.

"**SHHH!**" America hissed. "Don't interrupt the song!"

"But it was okay for you to, like, totally talk through everyone else's songs?" Poland pointed out.

"_Sfarim mesudarim, uven hachadarim_." Israel's voice started off very soft, but it began to grow in volume and strength. "_Hesh'art li rak milim, zer shel man'ulim_…"

"The contest is almost over," Prussia said anxiously, wringing his hands a little as they watched Israel's performance backstage. "Come on…please let us win!"

"It would be our first win since 1982," Germany said thoughtfully, glancing at his brother. "You want victory that badly, huh?"

"West, if we don't win I can't bother Austria for a _whole year_!" the idea seemed quite horrifying to Prussia. "What am I going to do with myself if I can't antagonize him for a whole year?"

Austria coughed discreetly. "I'm standing right here, you know."

"You shouldn't have made the bet then if it bothers you," Germany said.

"YOU made the bet, not me!" Prussia wailed.

"Germany." Hungary moved closer to him. "Why are you still back here? Don't you want to sit with Italy in the audience?"

Germany's whole face turned bright red and he ducked his head. "I-I, er, that's n-not necessary…"

"_Not necessary_? We all saw how he cheered for you. He would be quite happy to see you!"

"Uh…" Germany rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "_N-Nein_. I'd rather not…"

"This is becoming rather idiotic," Austria sighed.

"_Elohim, hesh'art li rak milim_." Israel finished her song with a bang and curtsied to the audience.

"ALL RIGHT, **WOO-HOO**!" America cheered, once again jumping up and cheering furiously for Israel. That didn't really surprise anyone.

"_ADBHUT_!" India, who'd been silent the entire evening, suddenly jumped to his feet and began cheering as enthusiastically as America, startling everyone around him.

"Make a noise or something other than that!" Australia complained loudly.

"Why didn't they cheer for _me_ like this?" England complained. "They came to see _me_, after all…"

"They came to revel in your _humiliation_," Ireland quipped.

England seethed at his sister. "Bloody hell, just bugger off!"

Scores were quickly sent out, as it was nearing the end of the show. "Ten points," Netherlands said.

"Uh-huh, that's right!" America said with total satisfaction.

"One point," France said.

"Three," England said.

Poland checked his phone. "I didn't score her."

"Neither did I," Lithuania said.

Several other countries confirmed the same thing, and America gaped at them. "Are you _kidding_? How can you NOT score her?"

"We haven't scored a lot of people," Latvia said defensively. "Besides, _we_ don't make these scores!"

"B-But it _was_ a good song," Canada said quietly. "It seems rather odd…"

"Here we go again," England grumbled.

"Five points," Norway said.

"Ten points," Finland said.

"Can I have the book back?" Sealand asked. "I don't see what the big deal is."

"_Nej_," Sweden said coldly.

* * *

"Denmark, it's time!"

"I know!" Denmark brushed himself off and smiled. He was pumped, and full of energy. He'd changed into a blue and black vest-like shirt with white pants, but his mind was on the song…and a certain someone in the audience. _Time to return the favor._

"_The final nation to perform tonight is Denmark!"_

"The song his boss chose is a duet, right?" Iceland asked Norway. "How's he going to do that? Will some girl sing onstage with him?"

Norway shrugged stiffly. "Who really knows or cares?"

Sealand's pocket suddenly began to hum and he checked the user-I.D. "Oh, not again!" he flipped open the phone. "Åland, stop calling _my_ cell phone if you aren't going to talk to me! Call Papa-Finland's cell phone!"

"_Is your refrigerator running?"_ hissed the voice on the other line.

"What?" Sealand demanded. "I don't have a refrigerator!"

"_Then you'd better catch it! __**BWAHAHAHAHAHA!**__" _the line abruptly disconnected.

"SCREW YOU, NORTHERN CYPRUS!" Sealand screamed into his phone, never mind that he'd already hung up. "THAT'S A LAME JOKE!"

Sweden stared at him. "What was that?"

"The Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus!" Sealand fumed. "He prank-called me!"

"That wasn't very nice of him," Finland said. "Why does he bother you?"

"Because HE'S a micro nation as well! But he keeps rubbing in my face the fact that at least ONE country recognizes him! NOBODY RECOGNIZES **ME**!"

Finland looked at Sweden warily. "Um…"

Hanatamago licked Sealand's face in comfort, and the boy held onto the dog tightly.

Denmark came onto the darkened stage to a mild applause. He approached the edge of the stage and knelt down. The Nordics noticed that he had both hands behind his back. Also, that his musicians were quite a distance away.

Music rose from the stage, and the lights abruptly came up. Denmark's right arm came forward to reveal a microphone. "_For as long as I remember…For as long as I've been blue…Every day since we've been parted…All I thought about was you_." his eyes wandered just briefly towards the Nordics, but then he focused forward.

He suddenly dropped his right arm and brought his left arm forward, revealing another microphone. "_Didn't need the time for sorrow…Didn't need the time for pain…_"

He quickly brought the other microphone up, and held both to his mouth. "_What am I supposed to do? When living without you. Is the worst I ever knew_?"

Denmark suddenly jumped to his feet, still holding both microphones. "_In a moment like this! Wanna know, wanna know, wanna know what you're looking for! Wanna know, wanna know, wanna know could you ask for more_!"

"Well, that solves the duet," Norway said blandly. "He sings it all himself."

"_Wanna know, wanna know, wanna know what I have to do! Wanna know, wanna know, wanna know how to get to __**YOU**__! Hoo, ooh, ooh! In a moment like this_!"

It was hard to miss that overly punctuated 'you'. Norway glanced at Iceland and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"_Ever since the day you left me…Ever since you went away_." Denmark sang into each microphone individually before putting them both together again. "_I'm lost and I don't know! Where am I suppose to go? I still miss you so…_" As he sang these lyrics, he began to look blatantly in the direction of his fellow Nordics.

"Why does he keep looking at us?" Sealand asked. "It's kind of weird!"

"When is he _not_ weird?" Sweden asked.

"_When I need for you to hold me! Say you love and never leave me! My heart will forever be true_!"

"I…" Iceland glanced at Norway. "Think he's singing about _you_."

"I don't care," Norway said flatly.

"Well…everyone's in a romantic mood, I suppose!" Finland laughed feebly. "Spain, Germany, now Denmark…everyone's _serenading_!"

"…Great," Sweden said dully.

Denmark finished his song and got an amazing burst of cheers. He bowed graciously to the audience and blew a kiss at Norway, causing the other country to visibly flinch as he hurried offstage.

"…I gave him a perfect score," Iceland said painfully.

"Wow, two points!" Finland laughed.

"…Eight," Sweden growled, jabbing his phone back into his pocket.

Norway didn't check his score, and Iceland glanced at him. "Don't you want to see?"

"Not really, no—ACK!"

The green troll abruptly resurfaced in front of Norway and fished into his pockets for his cell phone. "_**Vennligst ikke bli kalde. Se hva du gav til eders tidligere mann.**_"

"He's NOT my ex-husband!" Norway shouted, struggling with his magical troll.

"See, he can be quite annoying!" Iceland pointed out.

"Not your ex-husband?" Finland asked. "But you two were married for three or six hundred years!"

The troll wrestled the cell phone from Norway and flipped it open. "_**Du gav Danmark åtte poeng. Det var ikke så vanskelig, var det?**_"

"Eight points?" Finland confirmed. "That was a good score!"

Norway ripped the phone out of his troll's hands. "_Tak_," he snapped sarcastically.

Sealand's phone hummed again and he pulled out the phone. "Northern Cyprus, it's NOT FUNNY!"

"…_Bror Sealand?" _came the response.

"Å- Åland!" Sealand said up. "Come on, call Papa-Finland's phone!"

"Is that Åland?" Finland asked. He held out his hand. "Here, let me talk to her."

"Why does she keep calling _my_ phone? Tell her to call yours!"

"Five points," Estonia said.

"Two," France read.

Poland checked his score and laughed. "So _here's _my perfect score!"

"I gave him a perfect score too!" Ireland exclaimed, sounding disgusted.

"Ten points," Latvia said.

"Three," Lithuania said.

"Six," England said.

"Four," Spain said. "Looks like he has a good chance…"

"_Thank you so much for being such a fabulous audience,"_ came an announcement. _"We will now have a thirty-minute intermission to tally up the scores! In just a little while we will crown this year's winner!"_

"Looks like we'll need to get backstage soon," England said, rising to his feet.

"They don't need to count anything!" Wales said obnoxiously. "We all know that you LOST!"

Most of the countries that had been part of the British Empire laughed loudly. England growled in fury and rounded on them. "Sod off, all of you! Your childish antics and trying to _sabotage_ my performance! I don't have to put up with this!"

"Oi, just calm down mate," Australia said, while his koala glared murderously at England from the top of his head. "This is all in good fun!"

"All in good fun? **HOW** IS THIS FUN?"

"Why are you so angry?" Hong Kong said bluntly. "Our presence doesn't make your song any worse than it already is."

"Silence or I'll curse your eyebrows again!"

Hong Kong narrowed his eyes. "Do that and I'll fire a _shell rocket_ at you!"

England visibly paled. "E-Er…"

"Time to stretch my legs," Romano announced, standing up. "I can get away from the idiocy now!"

"Ah, _mi amor_!" Spain laughed, standing up as well. "Don't you enjoy _my _presence?"

"Hell no! And who the fuck are you calling '_mi amor_'?"

Italy suddenly abruptly stood up. "I have to go."

"Eh?" Romano gaped at his brother. "What? Where?"

"I-I just have to go. I'll be back before the final." Without another word he took off running up the aisle.

"_Idiota_," Romano fumed, shaking his head. "Where is he going?"

Poland laughed loudly. "Isn't it, like, totally obvious?"

"_No_, not really," Spain admitted.

France joined in the laughter. "Little Italy is going to see Germany!"

"Why the fuck would he want to see that kraut-bastard?" Romano yelled. He kicked the side of his seat. "He IS an idiot!"

* * *

Austria poured himself a cup of tea. One sugar and one teaspoon of skim milk. He calmly stirred his tea before he set down his spoon and raised the cup.

Before the cup reached his mouth though, a waterfall of sugar fell right in front of his face, and straight into his cup. He sat there stunned for a moment before he calmly set the cup back down. "…Gilbert," he said quietly.

Prussia cackled loudly and slammed the now empty sugar bowl on the table next to Austria's ruined cup of tea. The sugar pile inside the cup looked like a submerged iceberg. "What do you want?"

"What are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm preparing for the worst!" Prussia slapped him hard on the shoulder. "I'm confident we will win, but if we _don't_, then I'm a man of my word! So I'm playing all of my best tricks on you now in case anything happens!"

Austria groaned with mild irritation. "Then I will wish for your defeat. It wouldn't be the first time, anyways."

Prussia's face flooded with fury. "YOU—"

A frying pan was waved casually in front of his face. "You had better leave him alone, Prussia, before I knock out more of your teeth."

Prussia stiffened, but covered up his fear with another laugh. "I was finished, anyways!" he hurried to the other side of the room where Germany was sitting.

"…_Danke_," Austria said quietly.

"It's not fair for him to bother you," Hungary said, tapping the frying pan in her palm. "Besides, I'm certain Germany will win so this won't be the last time he bugs you…unfortunately."

Austria folded his hands in his lap. "If they win, then I must participate next year."

"Why is that a bad thing? You're very talented."

Prussia fell into the seat beside Germany, scrubbing at his face. Germany looked at him. "Are you crying, Aniki?"

"_Nein_! Absolutely not! I'm way too manly to be crying!" but tears were spilling down Prussia's cheeks. "These are _manly_ tears!"

"…I'm nervous, too," Germany admitted slowly. "We haven't won in years. It would be nice to win, especially after singing such a humiliating song. But…"

"_Ciao_!"

Germany jumped violently in his seat. Both Hungary and Austria were also startled by this voice. Prussia, however, immediately brightened and jumped to his feet.

"Italy!" he cheered. He ran over to Italy and promptly crushed him in a hug. "You came to cheer me up! You look adorable!"

Germany slowly stood up from the couch. Hungary quickly looked at him and smiled broadly. "Well! We must be leaving!"

"Eh?" Austria said.

"_Igen_, we are in quite a rush!" Hungary grabbed Austria by his sleeve and proceeded to drag him towards the door, where Prussia was still cuddling Italy. She glared at Prussia, and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. "We must _go_! Come on!"

"Hey, I wanted to visit with Italy! _Hündin_!" Prussia tried to pull Italy out of the room with him, but Hungary's tightening hold on his neck forced him to let the other country go. "It's not enough you broke my teeth! Why can't you let me have fun?" Prussia continued to scream at Hungary, all the way down the hall.

Italy gaped after them. "Ve…Miss Hungary is still very scary!"

"_Ja_, she is," Germany said uneasily. "Did you…want to come inside?"

"Oh, that's right!" Italy happily skipped into the room. "I wanted to congratulate you on your song! It was _magnifico_!"

"_Vielen Dank_," Germany said sincerely, though he fidgeted where he stood. "I-I was hoping it wasn't too weird…"

"Weird?" Italy idly picked up the empty sugar bowl before he put it back down. "Why would it be weird?"

"Because a young girl sang it first. A-And it…" his face turned red as he spoke. "The song talks about painting toenails, and…blue underwear."

"I don't think that's weird," Italy said. "You meant it when you sang it, right?"

"Eh?" Germany quickly hid his face. "M-Meant it?"

Italy looked confused for a moment. Then…crestfallen. "Then you didn't mean it?"

"W-What do you mean by 'mean it'?"

Italy slowly walked over to Germany, who was slightly hunched over in embarrassment. He leaned forward until his face was inches from Germany's. "The song. Didn't you sing it with meaning? I…" he paused for a moment before he continued. "You pointed to me."

If it was possible, Germany's face turned even darker red. "I-I…"

"You did," Italy said certainly. "I know you did, and so did everyone else."

Germany would've preferred Italy's usual naïveté at that moment. He turned away from him and walked away, wanting some distance. "I…"

"If you were singing to me," Italy said slowly. "I'm not mad."

Germany looked at him over his shoulder, and Italy shrugged. "You've always been my closest friend. We…" he looked pained for a moment. "Things were so _brutto_ between us for such a long time. I-I thought we would never be together again, and I _hated_ not having you there with me." He forced a smile. "So…when I thought you were singing to me, it made me so _happy_. And I don't even mind that it's a love song. It's just felt…_right_."

Germany lowered his hand and glanced at Italy over his shoulder. "Do you really mean that?"

Italy shrugged. "Would I say it if I didn't mean it?"

"Oh." Germany managed a little smile. "Thank you, then."

"Naaa, Doitsu." Italy walked over to him, and stood rather close in front of him. "Since you sang that song to me that means you like me right?"

Once again Germany's whole face turned red. "U-UH…"

Italy laughed happily. "Am I right?"

"I, er…" Germany scratched his head and looked away. "I-I don't…hate you."

"Really?" Italy's whole face lit up. "I'm so happy to hear that! Since you showed me how much you like me, I have to return the favor?"

"Eh?" Germany dropped his hand once more. "How?"

"This!" Italy jumped up on top of him, nearly knocking him over, and crushed his mouth over Germany's.

Germany stumbled back a couple of steps, and pressed a hand to the small of Italy's back to keep them both steady. But…he didn't have it in him to push Italy away. He didn't want to, anyways. A warm and tight feeling began to form in his chest, and he curled his fingers into the back of Italy's head, tilting his head very slightly to deepen the kiss. Somehow…all of it seemed worth it. The humiliation of singing such a girly song was gone, because Italy had genuinely enjoyed it. And he'd thought Germany was singing to him

_But maybe…_Germany almost laughed. _Nein. I __**was**__ singing to him_.

"German—AH!"

Both countries broke apart abruptly and turned to see a stagehand frozen in the doorway, his face pale and full of embarrassment. "I'm so sorry! B-But I was looking for you! The scores have been tabulated and you're needed onstage, Germany!"

Italy smiled, and slapped a hand on his shoulder. "Good luck."

"_Danke_." Despite being embarrassed, Germany couldn't stop smiling. "I just have to find Aniki…"

* * *

"_It is time! The scores have been calculated!"_

The participating countries were all marched onto the stage, where they stood shoulder-to-shoulder behind the host for Eurovision. The audience quickly silenced as the host happily came out, waving to the audience. "Hello and welcome back!"

Italy hurried back into his seat, and Romano glared at him. "Where the hell were you?"

"Visiting with Germany!" Italy said proudly. He couldn't stop smiling.

"Why would you want to visit _him_?"

"This year competition was stiff, but we have a winner!" the host announced. "But before I announce them, I ask that all of you give a round of applause to this year's participants! They all did an amazing job!"

The audience obligingly cheered for several moments. "Now, allow me to announce the top ten best songs for this year!"

A dramatic drum-roll came up as the host pulled out an envelope and enfolded the list. "In tenth place, with one hundred and eight points…is _Ukraine_!"

"Oh!" Ukraine pressed a hand over her mouth in shock, and her siblings clapped for her enthusiastically. Tears filled her eyes as she stepped forward to the edge of the stage. "Ah…thank y—(_**BA DUM!**_)!"

"In ninth place…" the host held the list up. "With one hundred and thirty six points is _Georgia_!"

Georgia looked enthused by the announcement, and Azerbaijan gave him a hug and a kiss. He took his place next to Ukraine, and he smiled a little when he saw Armenia clapping for him.

"Eight place, with one hundred and forty points, is…_Greece_!"

"Eh?" Greece looked tired onstage, but he brightened up a little at this announcement. Cuddling a couple of kittens to his chest he stepped forward to stand next to Georgia. He saw Japan clapping for him in the audience, and that brightened his mood even more.

"In seventh, with one hundred and forty-one points is _Armenia_!"

Armenia looked stunned to have been announced, and he brightened up a little more when Russia enthusiastically clapped for him. He also saw Turkey clap for him, which visibly diminished his mood, but he stepped forward.

"Sixth place! With one hundred and forty-_three_ points…is…_Belgium_!"

"YEAH!" Netherlands shouted, jumping to his feet and clapping. "Way to go, Belgium!"

"Nee-san!" Luxembourg cheered.

Both unfortunately were dwarfed by Romano's response. "**WOO-HOO, YEAH BELGIUM!**"

Belgium smiled shyly as she took her place next to Armenia.

"Now for the top five winners!" the host cried. "Fifth, with a final score of one hundred and forty-five points, is _Azerbaijan_!"

Azerbaijan cheered, and hugged Turkey tightly. Armenia's face fell at this announcement, and darkened as Azerbaijan ran over to hug Georgia. And there was no mistaking the face she made at Armenia when she went to take her place.

"Fourth place, with one hundred and forty-nine points, is _Denmark_!"

"_Skita_," Sweden groaned.

Denmark stood very still on the stage for a moment. Then he screamed in a falsetto voice and flailed his hands. Suddenly he grabbed Norway by his collar and kissed him hard on the cheek. Then he ran forward with more surprising enthusiasm, as though he'd won the contest itself. "I did it! MY LOVE SHINED THROUGH!"

"He's happy," Iceland said.

Norway said nothing, but reached up with his sleeve to scrub Denmark's kiss off his cheek.

"Now it's time to announce our _top three_!" the host went onto the next page. "Third place! With one hundred and sixty-two points…is _Romania_!"

Wallachia gasped aloud, but it didn't seem like the Romanian siblings were very shocked by their placement. Moldova clapped for his siblings as Transylvania and Wallachia stepped forward.

"Our second place winner, and runner-up, with one hundred and seventy points, is…_Turkey_!"

Greece gaped in horror, as did Armenia and Cyprus. Azerbaijan shrieked and clapped her hands. Turkey stood still for a moment, before he shouted a victory cry and pumped his fists. As he took his spot he saw Greece's expression. He shrieked with laughter and openly pointed and mocked him. It didn't seem like it mattered to Turkey that he hadn't won, and was just the runner-up; he'd done better than Greece, and that counted more.

Germany swallowed thickly, and saw Italy once more in the audience. The top nine had been announced, and it hadn't been them. That meant nothing, though; they could've gotten twentieth for all they knew.

"Are you all ready?" the host asked the audience. He received cheers in response. "It is time…to announce the winner of the Eurovision Song Contest for 2010! And, with an astonishing _two hundred and forty-six_ points! Truly an amazing score!"

Germany held his breath, and he felt Prussia grab his hand. Most of the countries remaining were in fact very tense over this.

"The winner, of the fifty-fifth annual Eurovision Song Contest for 2010 is…" the host paused dramatically for a very long second. Then, he thrust his fist into the air.

"**GERMANY!**"

Germany felt a jolt in his body, but he stood transfixed. So did Prussia as everyone around them shrieked with joy, and confetti rained down from the ceiling. Above their heads, a gigantic German flag swept down and hung above them, as to further indicate their victory.

It was Prussia who acted first. "_**Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa**_!" he punched the air several times and suddenly crushed Germany in a tight hug. "West! WEST! We did it, **WE DID IT**! _FICK DICH ÖSTERREICH_!"

Italy was jumping up and down in the audience, clapping and cheering. "Doitsu!"

"BOO!" Romano was screaming at the same time. "**BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**!"

"Germany won," Poland said sourly. "_Pierdol_."

The German brothers were ushered forward and paraded all up and down the stage. Prussia basked in the glory as though they'd won the greatest battle on Earth. Germany looked to be in quite a daze, only halfheartedly waving to people.

Backstage, Austria and Hungary were clapping for them. "Looks like you're _definitely_ competing next year!" she cheered.

"…And it looks like Prussia will now never leave me alone," he sighed.

Finally, they took the brothers front and center, where Norway waited with a crystal microphone trophy. The host country looked quite neutral, and didn't seem to care he didn't place in the top ten. The passage of the award was quite simple, but then a real microphone was shoved in Germany's face for a victory speech.

Germany stared out at everyone, feeling the jubilation in his heart. His people were so happy about this victory, as was he. But, he found himself a little tongue-tied. "Uh—"

"We didn't doubt our victory for ONE MINUTE!" Prussia shouted, cutting Germany off. "We knew the _minute_ we got onstage to perform that we would win! AND WE DID! So SCREW YOU, AUSTRIA! WE WON!"

Hungary's face darkened. "Apparently he hasn't noticed just how much you've been _helping_ them!"

"It doesn't matter," Austria said. "This is Prussia, after all. Should we expect anything else?"

They confiscated the microphone afterwards, and a giant television at the back of the stage lit up to reveal all of the final standings.

"…Eleventh?" Russia read. He was smiling, but it seemed like a dark aura surrounded him once more. "I was eleventh."

"Twelfth," France read, shaking his head in disgust. "People have no taste for art."

"Fifteenth?" Spain read, rubbing at his forehead. "Does this include Jimmy Jump's interference, or my serenade of Romano?"

"…Twentieth," Norway read dully.

"I'm nineteenth," Iceland pointed out.

"Twenty-first," Cyprus read. "That's a load of—OW!"

The Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus snuck onstage in the chaos and kicked his brother once more. "You SUCK!"

But it was England was gaping with absolute horror at the screen. "T-Twenty…fifth?" his jaw dropped. "I'm last? I'm _DEAD LAST_? I only got **TEN POINTS**?"

Ireland laughed as she walked over to him. "What did I tell you?" she said snidely. "Your song was _horrible_ this year!"

"SHUT UP!" England hollered. "How _dare_ you act so high and mighty? _You_ placed twenty-third! You're not even in the top twenty!"

"…True," Ireland said. "But I still did better than _you_."

England was left gaping as she walked away.

* * *

Still basking in the glow of their victory, Germany and Prussia were greeted with full honors at Eurovision's after-party. The party hall was massive, but it could barely contain all of the guests who were packed inside, getting drunk and dancing sloppily to the Norwegian dance music.

Their boss ran over and kissed them both on the mouth. "Fantastic!" she cheered. "Thank you both so very much for this victory!"

"Y-You're welcome, ma'am," Germany said uneasily. "You were quite keen with the song…"

"_Ja_, just like I said I was!" she smiled at them but planted her hands on her hips. "And I expect the same next year!"

"Of course!" Prussia yelled. "We will _never_ shame ourselves on our home turf!"

"That's good, because Lena agreed to give us another one of her songs!"

The glee died in both Germany and Prussia immediately and they gaped at their boss. "E-Excuse me?" Germany sputtered.

"_Ja_, Lena is giving us another song!" their boss confirmed. "And I just know you both will perform it as _schön _as you did _Satellite_!"

Prussia slapped Germany on the shoulder. "West…I'm going to go get a beer." Then he ran off.

"Aniki!" Germany hollered, pursuing his brother. "You'd better believe you're doing this with me!"

They left their boss standing there in confusion. "What's wrong with those boys?" she wondered aloud.

The Nordics entered the party hall together. "All right, let's get DRUNK!" Denmark hollered, throwing an arm around Norway. "As your former king who placed higher than ALL OF YOU!" but he only pointed at Sweden with this. "That is an order!"

"Does that mean _I_ can get drunk?" Sealand asked hopefully.

"Absolutely!" Denmark cheered.

"NO!" Sweden and Finland yelled.

Norway threw Denmark's arm off him. "Didn't you invite the _kids_ to the after-party?"

"Greenland and Faroe are here?" Iceland wondered. He looked around the very busy party-hall.

"Yeah, THERE THEY ARE!" Denmark cheered, taking off running. "Greenland! Your _bror_ is here!"

"…How did I put up with this all these years?" Norway grumbled to himself.

But the Nordics and Sealand followed Denmark to a solitary table, where the former King of Scandinavia was crushing a teenage boy in his arms. "Greenland! It's been so long!"

"I'm avoiding you because you won't give me my independence, remember?" Greenland grumbled, shoving Denmark away from him with much difficulty. Though his eyes were strikingly green-blue, his hair was black and his skin was bronze, indicating his Inuit lineage. "Hi, Iceland," he said offhandedly, idly petting Mr. Puffin. "I voted for you."

"_Takk_," Iceland responded as Norway came forward to brush off the wrinkles in Greenland's shirt caused by Denmark's hug.

"And Faroe!" Denmark rounded on a girl looking to be about twelve years old sitting at the table. He picked her up straight out of the chair and hugged her tightly. "It's so nice to see you!"

"T-Thank you." her pale-purple eyes regarded the other countries as Denmark hugged her, and her face lit up a little when she saw Norway. But, with her eyes and her ash-blonde hair, she easily looked the most like him.

Denmark set her down and ruffled her hair. "This is so incredible, I don't even care I placed fourth! This is an awesome family reunion!"

"I liked the part when you screamed like a girl," Greenland said dully. "Though when you tried to make out with Norge was pretty funny."

"He _didn't_ try to make out with me," Norway said, brushing out Faroe's now uneven hair with his hands. "He was just acting stupid."

"Victory_ is_ oh-so sweet!" Denmark cheered.

"But you didn't win anything," Sweden pointed out.

Finland felt a tug on his sleeve. He turned his head and looked down to see a little girl with big blue eyes and silver hair tied up in short, curly pigtails. "_Tjena, Mamma_."

"_Åland_!" Finland picked up his child straight into his arms. "_Hur mår ni?_"

"We picked her up before we got here," Greenland said. "We figured you wanted to see her."

"Yes, thank you!" Finland cuddled her to him. "_Kul att ses!_"

"_Jag är glad_!" Åland glanced at Sweden over Finland's shoulder. "_Tjena, Pappa_!"

"_Hej_," Sweden said, smiling a little.

Sealand hung onto Hanatamago, who was struggling in his arms to get to Åland. "Why are you guys always so nice to her, but always yell at me?"

"Maybe if you didn't act so reckless we wouldn't yell at you," Sweden muttered.

"Sealand!" Åland was motioning to him now and Finland put her down so she could run over to him. "_Brorsan__, __hur mår ni?_" she seemed very pleased to see him, and not at all bothered he'd kept hanging up on her.

"_Hur stark som helst_," Sealand responded bluntly.

Finland and Sweden gaped at him. "Wow, y-you're learning pretty fast!" Finland said.

Sealand shrugged. "Just a little, piece by piece."

"Try saying something else to her," Sweden said.

"All right." Sealand dramatically cleared his throat as Åland watched him. Then he bellowed out:

"_Jär snyggare naken_!"

Åland gasped audibly, and Sweden smacked Sealand upside the head. "Don't tell her stuff like _that_!"

"But that sentence _totally_ applies to me!" Denmark shouted from the table, helping himself to quite a few beers despite the children nearby. "Am I right, Norge?"

"…Idiot," Norway grumbled.

On the other side of the party hall, most of the other countries had gathered together. Prussia was drinking at the bar, getting excessively drunk.

England, who sat beside him, wasn't doing a whole lot better. "Ten points…ten _points_! This is some mass conspiracy against me!" he started crying into his beer.

"There's no conspiracy," Ireland said, sliding up next to her brother. Behind them, the rest of the former British Empire was listening to a story America was telling. "You just did _horribly_ this year!"

England glared at her. "So says the woman who gave a perfect score to her _ex-husband_!"

Ireland hissed and drank down her beer. "_I_ didn't give it to him! I would've _gladly_ given myself a perfect score since _my_ song was the only one that gave a damn!"

"And yet you got twenty-third," England pointed out. "It's obviously _not_ worth a damn!"

"Prussia is drinking a lot," Canada said, hugging Mr. Kumajirou to his chest. He didn't seem to notice the argument between England and Ireland. "Is he okay?"

"Who cares?" Hungary said, smiling at Austria. "So, do you know what song you'll be singing for next year?"

"I don't really know," Austria said. "I just lost the bet that stipulated I would join Eurovision. Besides, it's not really my choice so much as it's my boss's choice.

"Oh, Mr. Austria." Liechtenstein was walking by when she heard this. "You'll be competing again next year? That's so exciting!"

"_Danke_," Austria said, managing a smile.

"Liechtenstein." Switzerland came over and grabbed her arm. "It's getting a little crazy in here, so we'd better go."

"Okay," Liechtenstein said. "But did you hear, Nii-san? Mr. Austria will be competing in Eurovision again next year!"

Switzerland and Austria exchanged an uncomfortable glance. "That's nice." He pulled Liechtenstein away from the table and out of sight.

Hungary laughed to herself. "It's so cute how protective he is of her!"

"I believe he may be embarrassed about his standing this year," Austria said.

It was then that the Romanian siblings entered the hall. Hungary visibly stiffened, but Austria grabbed her arm. "Ignore them," he reminded her. Though, his brow rose when he saw how rosy all three siblings cheeks were. Generally, they had a very pale complexion. _They must have gotten something to eat...or some__**one**_.

Lithuania was looking over his shoulder suspiciously. Poland finished his beer and looked at him. "What is it, Liet?"

"I…feel like Russia's glaring at me," Lithuania said slowly. "And I don't know why."

Poland looked over to where Russia was sitting. He had three bottles of vodka in front of him, one already empty, but he was sitting there with a dark aura. Belarus, not seeming to care, was cuddling on his arm. The only other person sitting at the table was Armenia, who was calmly drinking a beer and seemingly oblivious to Russia's dark aura.

The dance music switched tracks and Poland stood up. "Well, let's give him something to glare at!"

"Feliks, my nose is starting to hurt again!" Lithuania complained loudly.

"So? Then the dancing will distract you!"

"But—"

"And then POW!" America shouted, his cheeks flushed from his alcohol consumption. "He fell on his ass and his pants fell down!"

Countries surrounding him shrieked with laughter. Japan sat there quietly, looking like he had a headache. Beside him, Greece had his face against the table. "I lost to Turkey…I lost to Turkey…"

"You did your best, and that's what counts," Japan said. "I thought it was an excellent performance."

"But I lost to _Turkey_." Greece shook his head into the table, and one of his cats nuzzled his head. "I could bear defeat from anyone, but to lose to Turkey? _Again_?"

"Well, you actually lost to seven other people," Romano pointed out, gulping down his beer miserably.

"And here's the LOSER!" Turkey announced loudly, coming over to stand behind Greece. He poked the younger man in the back. "I'm not doing too badly in Eurovision, am I? Compared to you youngsters, I'm getting _better_ marks every year! 2007—fourth place! 2008—seventh! 2009—fourth again! And now, 2010, _I'm_ the runner-up! That means next year I will most _certainly _be the winner!"

"C-Congratulations on getting second place," Japan stammered, though he seemed to mostly say the comment to diffuse the situation.

"Thank you very much, Japan!" Turkey positively grinned at Japan before snarling at Greece. "Did _you_ get so much of a congratulation, brat?"

"Actually, I _did_ congratulate Greece-san, Turkey-san," Japan interjected politely.

Turkey shifted, but continued with a haughty laugh. "But I _still_ did better than you, brat! You'd better keep that in mind next year when I defeat you…AGAIN!"

"Stop talking to him like that!" Cyprus snapped, hurrying over to him. "You may be older, but you're _clearly _a giant _kolotripa_!"

Turkey growled in fury. "You ungrateful little…Northern Cyprus!" he shouted. "Your older brother is annoying me!"

"Oh, you mean _him_?" Cyprus casually swooped down and heaved a hog-tied Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus onto the table. "He was doing plenty of annoying on his own!"

"Is that Northern Cyprus?" Sealand shouted from the other side of the room. "Where's my slingshot? Time for payback!"

"_FIR_!" Turkey hollered, grabbing Cyprus by his collar. "What have you done to him?"

"Hey, let him go!" Greece snapped, jumping to his feet.

"YOU GUYS AREN'T LISTENING TO MY STORY!" America bellowed out, pulling out a handgun and firing it into the air.

Guns do many things for potentially explosive situations. With this, the fight between the Balkan countries abruptly ceased, and Turkey grabbed the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus and hurried off to sit back with Azerbaijan and Georgia.

America tucked his gun back into its holster, oblivious to the horrified stares he received. "Now, where was I?"

Luckily for America, most of the partygoers were drunk and so his careless actions didn't cause a stampede.

Germany finally found his brother, but froze in his tracks when he saw how drunk he was. Muttering a few curse words under his breath, he took a seat at Austria's table.

"Doitsu!" Italy cheered, standing up from the nearby table. He ran over to Germany and threw his arms around him. "Congratulations on your win!" he kissed him on the cheek.

"Holy shit, you DID NOT just do that!" Romano shrieked, jumping to his feet.

"I think he did," Spain giggled around his beer. Then he turned to Portugal, who was leaning drunkenly against an even drunker France. "So, what happened then—"

"Nii-san, what's the matter?" Italy asked in confusion, still holding onto Germany's shoulders.

"Why the fuck did you just kiss that kraut-bastard!" Romano stumbled violently out of his chair, ignoring Spain's hand grabbing for his arm. "You don't know where he's been!"

Germany flushed with embarrassment, especially since Romano's voice echoed across the noisy party hall. "I haven't _been_ anywhere."

"That's right, he's right here!" Italy said defensively, hugging him tighter. "And I won't allow you to talk like that about him!"

"Veneziano, I'm already drunk! I don't want anything else to make me puke!" Romano grabbed Italy by the arm and pulled. "Now let him go! You're making an _ass_ out of yourself!"

"_You're_ one to talk," Austria muttered.

"No, I won't let go!" Italy wailed, hanging onto Germany tighter. "I want to be with him!"

Germany felt trapped underneath the two Italians. "Eh—"

"_GESÙ CRISTO_!" Romano let him go and smacked him hard across the head. "What is the matter with you? _Why_ would you want to be with _him_? T-This potato-kraut-smelling bastard! Ugh, can you imagine how disgusting it must be to KISS him?"

"I HAVE kissed him!" Italy whined, rubbing at his head. "And he doesn't taste like any of that nasty stuff! He tastes really sweet, like beer and strawberries!"

"_Mein GOTT_!" Germany groaned, rubbing at his face. "This is NOT how I intended to enjoy my victory!"

"Beer and strawberries?" Hungary echoed playfully. "That sounds pleasant!"

"Better than Prussia," Austria said off-handedly. "_He's_ more like beer and cereal..."

Hungary looked at him for a long moment. "And _how_ do you know what _Prussia_ tastes like?"

Austria froze, and his whole face turned red. "I'd...rather not say..."

"Come on, Romano, let them alone," Spain pleaded, coming over to them. "You can spend some time with m—"

"Go back and hang all over _Portugal_!" Romano barked at him.

"_Que bonito!_" Portugal laughed loudly. "_Romano é invejoso de mim!_"

"More like a little too _drunk_," France added.

"Why can't you be nice, Nii-san?" Italy demanded. "Germany won Eurovision this year! Prussia and he are the winners! Why are you being so mean?"

Romano snorted with disgust. "He won...so _what_? His song _sucked_!"

"OI!" Prussia hollered, stumbling over to them. "We scored _seventy-nine_ more points than Turkey!"

"Seventy-six," Germany corrected sourly.

"Seventy-six more points than Turkey! We kicked ASS! More ass than _you_." Prussia jabbed a finger at Romano. "Ever could!"

"Gilbert, don't be so antagonistic!" Spain reprimanded him. "We know you won fair and square!"

"If HE'S so great," Prussia slurred. "Then why hasn't he entered since **_1997_**? Why does he have his head buried in the sand for THIRTEEN YEARS?"

"Because _idiota_ here keeps forgetting to enter us!" Romano snapped, jabbing a thumb at Italy. "I give him _one task_ and he can't do it! He keeps forgetting the fucking deadline!"

"Nii-san!" Italy wailed. "I promise! I promise I won't forget the deadline next year!"

Romano shook his head, and waved Spain's hand away again. "No. No, forget it."

"But—"

"_I'm _going to take care of it next year!"

"R-Really?" Italy's whole face lit up. "We'll really be entering it next year?"

"_Sì_, no thanks to YOU!" Romano thumped a hand upon his own chest. "We're entering again next year!"

"Wow, you guys are?" Poland shouted, breaking away from Lithuania to run over to them. "That's incredible!"

"Wow, next year will be a year of comebacks!" Hungary cheered, clapping her hands. "Austria is returning after three years, and Italy is returning after thirteen!"

"Ve, Doitsu!" Italy hugged Germany again. "I'll be entering next year!"

"I-I'm happy for you," Germany stammered.

"And we're totally going to KICK YOUR ASS!" Romano bellowed. "There's no _better_ time than within YOUR borders!"

"HEY!" Prussia yelled. "If anyone's going to be doing some ass-kicking, then it's going to be ME!"

"Wow, are you guys going to act like this next year?" America asked loudly. "Then I'm totally coming to see it again!"

"...I think I'll stay home next year," Japan said quietly.

* * *

So…we've reached the end. This has been a real treat to write, and I'm so glad you guys enjoyed reading it. I hope my Swedish got a little better, since I tried relying on dictionaries and the sort rather than translating engines.

As for my sources on historical material here…unfortunately I didn't keep track of a lot of websites I researched, but a lot of the detail here I found was based on historical information I learned in school, and Wikipedia. I know Wikipedia can be edited by just about anyone, but historical relations between countries aren't really spammed so I'll trust its content.

I _did_ plan on posting a list of next year's participating countries, but many of the countries who may or may not be participating are still undecided. But Austria and Italy _will_ be performing next year, and as I write this I do know that Italy is trying to negotiate to get the same immunity as the Big Four, because they've contributed a lot financially to Eurovision in the past. Oh, and Lena _will_ be representing Germany again next year.

Who knows, maybe Himaruya will introduce some of my OCs into the canon and I might have to recon this story, or something. But I will _definitely_ consider doing a Eurovision 2011 fanfic. I definitely would love to write a Romano-Veneziano duet and the possible hi-jinks they would get into onstage. Thanks for reading!


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